Yet another Perspective
by MiiYuKira
Summary: An Orlesian Warden with our favorites- something different and something borrowed. Some romance and Orlais intrigue. Partly OC, also contains some in-game material. I do not own DA's plot, dialogue and characters. Written in first-person.
1. Chapter 1

**Yet another Perspective**

**1. In the Beginning  
><strong>

Summary: Canon for the rest of the series I have planned out—

The story follows an Orlesian Warden as she joins the party at Redcliffe—the narrative will slip in and out of perspectives, but I'll try to even them out in time. I hope. I hope to reveal more about her in bits of information, so I apologise for the sudden beginning!

_Meanwhile, please read and comment; I shall work hard!_

_It gets better (I hope) as you read later chapters— I'm continually improving on my writing *grins*_

* * *

><p><span>Kiera<span>

The Blight was just beginning, and based on the lands I had passed and the things I saw, it looked pretty bad. I mean that it wasn't pretty. At all.

Whole villages sacked, devastated by the sheer mass of the darkspawn horde— devouring everything in its path. The black evil had spread from the South, tearing up the land. I wondered if any Fereldan Grey Wardens survived the great battle at Ostagar; of if they were all doomed along with the King. The whole of Ferelden would be taken, if none were left— Orlais was still weeks away, and any missive sent _now_ would be too late. I wondered what had possessed these people to have left it this late, to risk their people so.

I was the only one who had made it across the border— a passage by both ship and land, and still I was not in time for the battle that had claimed the Ferelden Order. And _Duncan_.

And yet, something else was affecting these people, the villagers of Redcliffe. It wasn't darkspawn, but something far worse, most likely something to do with the thin Veil that hung over the castle which stood on that hill.

I saw many of the men arming themselves, and as I walked amongst them, they seemed quite unable to describe the horrors that assailed the village each night. Monstrous apparitions, they said—horrible, disgusting things.

My curiosity was piqued, but not enough to walk into the Chantry, where everyone kept directing me. I wasn't desperate enough for information to walk where there were obviously going to be templars.

Hence, I settled myself at the tavern, figuring that if any news were to come, it would be from members of the militia looking to get drunk, and might let something slip about whatever it was they were fighting so desperately every night.

I didn't have to wait long, however, as more travellers walked into the tavern around midday, made up of men and women (even a _kossith_). They were all armed, and looked to have seen much fighting. They were also led by a mage, if I was to guess by his bright yellow robes. A Circle Mage.

Huh. Didn't think _those_ could walk around in broad daylight without Templars on their heels. He also looked vaguely familiar, perhaps an acquaintance from my Circle days. I slid lower in my seat, trying to look as inconspicuous as I could, deciding to observe their actions a bit more before approaching the suspicious group. One could never tell, in such a hostile world— that and the fact that the mage had actually intimidated the barkeep as well as an elf into joining the militia made me hesitant about identifying myself to the already tense men and women.

The troupe of misfits appeared to be helping the militia with their problems—making the blacksmith agree to repair armor, finding a dwarven warrior to help in the coming battle, forcing the jumpy elf into the militia, and even providing free drinks for the poor men who were depressed about the coming nightfall.

_Such a charming bunch. _I mused_._ The day was spent, and I was very much willing to fight alongside these people, if only to find out whether their paths were the same as mine. Two of them were Grey Wardens who completely overlooked my existence. How curious. The hum of the taint was unmistakable.

"Are you another traveller? You might want to go to the Chantry to hide." The sandy-haired warrior glanced at me, before turning away quickly.

"I am a traveller, but I do believe that you people will need all the help you can get, at least, for the battle tonight." My voice rang clear above the hushed murmuring everyone else seemed to converse in. The quiet was unsettling.

The man turned back, and this time took in the armour that I was wearing— the unobtrusive black plating, that covered my arms, torso and legs. Briefly, I saw him ponder. Perhaps the people in Ferelden weren't all dense. "Okay, you can help defend the frontlines with us. But at the first sign of danger, or injury, fall back—we can handle the rest."

Immediately, I knew I was very wrong. The men here appeared to be intellectually-impaired.

Night fell, and we saw a strange, miasmic cloud of destruction sped from the castle; a sign of the corruption that I had already suspected to have engulfed all who lived within its walls. I wasn't hopeful for the nobles, but at the very least, one could hope. In the midst of battle, I found myself fighting alongside the _kossith_.

He knew me for what I was, when I had enchanted both our blades to repel the undead fiends, a 'filthy' mage. He had snarled a little at that thought, but I think (at least I hope) that even he noticed that my moves were quite seasoned and unmage-like.

_He_ then appeared to tolerate my presence, especially (again, I might be just flattering myself) in light of my _skill_ with the twin blades. Three times I took down the fiends before they would injure him, and twice he shielded me from those which had sprung at my distracted self. The bony hands could cling like vices even as they were severed from the rest of the body. An incredibly creepy battle.

Much, much later—the final undead fell as its skeletal remains were crushed into dust by a bash from a shield. The surviving soldiers cheered; triumphant cries that proclaimed their immense relief at not dying at the hands of the decaying fiends.

I couldn't help but smile; it was a happy ending after all, even with the bodies of the fallen littering the ground. _We had won_, we all thought— and sheathing my double blades, I watched the relieved men in their thankful celebrations.

* * *

><p><em>P.S.: It's a bit short. Sorry! The rest of the chapters aren't as short though. Do read on- new perspectives come into play, like the title suggests :)<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**2. _Teagaaaaan_**

_A/N: Am uploading the rest of my written chapters: again, please read and review!_ heh.

* * *

><p><span>Kiera<span>

I wondered if they'd forgotten about me already, but given the dark looks the _kossith_ was still shooting my way— I knew it not to be so. Still, I was gratified that I wasn't totally insignificant, if only a source of disgust. After all, the male Circle mage did finally made his way to me, congratulating me on a job well done.

I nodded, and said the same. I realized in that instant that too he was a Warden; I could feel the taint humming in his veins. How strange, he seemed almost familiar. There was something about those grey eyes—but I couldn't place him. Have we met?

They didn't seem too interested in finding more people to join their joyous party of warriors, if indeed they were recruiting at all. It was all I could do to stop myself from blurting out my own status as a Warden, if neither man could sense me.

I suppose the sandy-haired one was too preoccupied with something else altogether to focus properly, for he should have felt my presence in a heartbeat—having _joined_ for more than six months. I decided to follow the party— out of pure curiosity, of course.

They snuck into the mill, and I slipped in behind them once I determined that they were out of range to sense my presence. Going by the heaps of oozing bodies and scattered bones—I judged that they were really quite effective in slaying everything that lay in their path, even if only two of them were actual Wardens. Perhaps these Fereldens weren't defenceless after all.

They eventually reached the castle, after walking in a passage that appeared to pass right under the lake. Bizarre construction, even for nobles. I followed the echoes made by their feet, though all I could think about was the weight of the water that no doubt surrounded this…passageway. I wasn't a particularly good swimmer.

I followed them into what appeared to be a set of dungeons. Of course, which noble's abode would not have them? It was rather curious to see them quietly talk to another mage through the bars, though. The Circle mage appears to have known him.

I couldn't quite hear most of the conversation, so I crept closer, if only to be discovered—by the _mabari_.

The beast barked at me, and actually charged forward, snapping viciously before being called to stop by his master, again the Circle mage. I wondered if they were angry, for my intrusion. That was when both the imprisoned mage and the Circle mage appeared to have found me out, despite the years that we've been apart.

"Kiera!" Both men cried that name and I rolled my eyes. This was no way to begin a proper introduction to the rest of their companions. Now they'd only wonder why I was deliberately keeping my distance despite our apparently friendly history. I had a very good excuse. An advanced age? Acute loss of memory? Ah yes—I was supposedly dead to these people.

"Yes, as you've just heard, my name is Kiera." I addressed the whole group of them. How awkward, to say the least.

"How in Andraste's name are you still alive?" That voice belonged to Jowan—was it? From Kinloch Hold. "We all thought the Templars had killed you, after they came back empty-handed four years ago."

"That's… another story for another time. Right now, you have a more pressing issue at hand, yes?" I was exasperated at the odd looks we were getting from everyone else, barring the _kossith_'s still-hostile frown. Yet neither Grey Warden could sense my similar tainted status. The sandy-haired one should have—having at least six months under his belt.

Daylen, on the other hand—I suspect that it had been barely a week since he took in the taint.

Their distraction was worrying. What were we doing here when there was a Blight to be stopped? Still, there seemed to be something rather strange going on—and I figured that I might as well trust them to not forget about the impending doom that ran far greater than a mere village like this one.

"The stranger is right—we should hurry." This came from the darkly-clothed (if one could call that ragged attire _clothes_) woman, her exasperation evident.

The party swept on ahead, after berating Jowan a little more. I decided to stay behind for a while, if only to heal my friend's numerous injuries.

"Here, I'll help you with those." I took his hands though the bars of the cell, firmly straightening the fingers before breathing the wounds and fractures anew.

As Jowan wheezed his thanks, I realized that the reason he was down here was his newfound prowess as a user of blood magic. Well, I never would have guessed that the meek-mannered Jowan would have learnt such a stigmatized skill. Daylen appeared to have known this, and treated it with the revulsion that was proper for those in the Circle.

Not that I would judge, for I too, was a blood mage. The _maleficar_ status was always an unpopular—though quite useful one.

xOxOx

I belatedly recalled Jowan and Daylen from my days in the Ferelden Circle—these two were my only friends, the rest being prejudiced by my hastened ascension up the ranks. Neither of them had minded my Orlesian origin, and we had often played pranks on the Templars together, even if I were four years younger than either of them.

I did however, remember a particularly interesting one involving grease glyphs in the templar quarters. They never did find out who planted those, nor the distracting whispers of wind that plagued our _guardians_ during their bath.

I followed in the wake of the party, noting the increasing number of corpses they seemed to leave in whichever passage they took. They were really very efficient people; I didn't even need to use my weapons the whole way. It was very convenient, leaving me to investigate this strangeness in peace. The bodies strewn around the estate revealed the dark forces at work; a demonic possession appeared to be the cause of all of this—especially the nightly attacks on the village.

Bann Teagan was prancing in a ridiculous manner, laughing and rolling like some jester. There was no doubt that the boy who watched ever so calmly was behind it all. He was possessed, as far as I could tell. It was a wonder at all that he had had the strength to go into the Veil and approach a demon for help. How very… disturbing, that the child could get that far on his own. He had a talent, for sure—though this was a dangerous sort of thing to excel in at so tender an age.

The crazed Bann attacked the group abruptly, following the command of the young boy. The men and women had reacted by simply splitting aside, no doubt unwilling to hurt the addled man. This allowed the redheaded man's charge to be directed at me.

I can't say much for the Ferelden and their inclinations, except that this meant that I was left vulnerable in that one moment.

I took one step back and dispatched the Bann as non-violently as I could, with a well-aimed pommel strike. The rest appeared to gape at my reflexes, and I shrugged, having trained to the point of developing an almost natural (one would also call it unnatural, though) reaction to attacks.

That being done, I barely paid any attention to the details of the ensuing explanations; long story short, the boy was possessed by a demon, and in an effort to save his father, unwittingly unleashing great disaster for Redcliffe village.

Also of some note, the Orlesian woman had simply _allowed_ it all to happen. I wondered loudly how this affair would end, but I knew that I would be unheard, for rest of the party seemed to be in great discussion as to what to do about the same 'problem'.

Quite frankly, the quickest way was to kill the child, but morally speaking, it didn't seem right that a child should suffer for his own ignorance. Especially since his own mother was also to blame for the fiasco.

Jowan had also somehow managed to escape from his cell in the dungeons, possibly due to the fact that his hands were healed. No one gave me a second glance again, and I simply stood off to the side, listening as there was still more angry dialogue with that grating Orlesian accent.

The woman had been in Fereldan for a good ten years and she _still_ insisted on dragging out the ridiculous vowels—not every word needed that ostentatious drawl. Teagaaaaan. Bleah.

I myself was Orlesian, but had had the good sense to learn to lose the excessive inflections even before I returned to Orlais. Plain unnatural.

"So, what do you think we should do—Kiera?" Daylen had finally decided to ask me. Jowan had offered to perform a blood magic ritual, one that had also resulted in the Orlesian mother—Isolde begging to sacrifice her life to complete. Can't say I was impressed, the harridan had caused it all with her remarkable stupidity, though she earned _some_ points for trying to protect her child.

"As much as I think it would be the slowest way, I think the safest method would be to let us go the Tower and get help from the mages there. Blood magic is unpredictable, and should only be used as a last resort." I eyed the response from my listeners. They appeared to have not thought of this most obvious solution, and I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. These Fereldens.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Poor Teagan, the way the <em>arlessa <em>absolutely mangles his name. (I realise how little these chapters contain dialogue. Sorry, I promise more will come. In time.)


	3. Chapter 3

**3. To the Tower we will Go!**

Alistair

The strange mage was right—the only way was to go to the Circle of Magi to get help. As much as I disliked Isolde, I didn't want Arl Eamon to lose the things he cherished most—his family. Connor certainly did not deserve us mowing him down like some abomination, especially if there was still hope. My only worry was that we would not make it back in time, and more than the child would have been lost.

Luckily, Daylen agreed to that suggestion (albeit uncomfortably) and we set off for Lake Calenhad immediately— although I could see that he had wanted to put that option off for as long as he could. I suppose I understood—that after Duncan had recruited him, Daylen had never thought about going back to the Tower.

We decided to leave Morrigan, Sten and the _mabari_ here, figuring that it would create even more issues with the templars on duty if the swamp witch came along. Leliana was determined to come, and Daylen wanted to bring this 'Kiera' along, even if she was an apostate, and a Grey Warden (I still can't believe how long it took for me to finally realize that).

I ended up taking the same watch as 'Kiera' that night, on our way to Lake Calenhad. Both Leliana and Daylen were actually trying for the same watch as the mysterious woman, but I wanted to keep an eye on her with my _abilities_, we couldn't trust anyone, not since Loghain has had many chances to send someone dangerous after the Grey Wardens, and I couldn't risk sneak attacks.

As much as I hated to even _think_ it—Morrigan was right, I had to stop moping. We were the last of the Ferelden Order.

I watched the mage set up camp; she seemed to be a practiced hand at this, and had put up her tent ahead of everyone else. Daylen kept trying to talk to her, presumably to catch up on 'old times'. She simply waved him away, making a gesture in my direction, and they both glanced at me for an instant, before sharing a long look. I assume that it was regarding my templar skills, and Kiera's apparent escape from the Tower.

Truth be told, I was burning with questions about the apostate, and I decided to get her to talk that night.

xOxOx

Kiera

And so the templar warden wanted to talk. He was of course, still suspicious, for who wouldn't be; barely a week or so after Ostagar, living in the wilderness and with disaster at every step of the way. Daylen had told me about Loghain's treachery at Ostagar, and the inherent actions the leaders of this nation took still baffled in its selfishness. The Blight had to take precedence over petty issues like politics, and sending assassins after the only people who could bring it to an end was suicidal for the entire land of Thedas, let alone just _Ferelden_.

"You never said where you were from," the templar (I believe his name was Alistair) asked.

"Is that a question? Or a statement?" I replied, smiling. I had just checked the perimeter of the camp. All seemed to be well. No darkspawn nearby.

"A question." He certainly was on the edge, to be this direct. From what I gathered, he was usually very easy-going.

"Ah. No, I don't believe I have." I couldn't believe that I was beginning to resort to childish wordplay with the man.

"Don't play games with me. Where are you from? I didn't see you at Ostagar." He was getting annoyed, that crinkle in his brow made him look much more fearsome. Just a little.

"I _suppose_ I am a Grey Warden from Orlais." I drawled. There, let's see that famous Ferelden hatred of all things Orlesian display itself. To my surprise, he didn't react in that manner. He seemed genuinely curious, his tone softened when he repeated 'Orlais'— with an upward inflexion instead of the usual angry, hateful tone.

"From Orlais? Wait, why did you say 'suppose'? Are you not certain of where _you_ come from?" He grinned, and appeared to be making a joke. Most surprising, given our situation.

I shook my head, and sat down next to the fire."Simply because I don't know how I should explain myself to complete strangers."

"You could start from the beginning." He was less tense, placating, even.

"Fine, but with one condition. You will repeat this to all your party members, because if I have to say it every single time someone gets curious, I will be very upset. Understood?" Alistair looked mildly uncomfortable, but nodded.

"Long story short, I am a mage brought to Ferelden when I was ten, from Orlais. I had my Harrowing so early it bordered on blasphemous, but I escaped the clutches of the Circle the very next day. That was four years ago. I was fifteen. I went back to Orlais, made a beeline for the Wardens who took me in, but put off making me a Warden until a nice man from Ferelden's Order intervened. I have hence spent the last few years training as a warrior, and have now returned to Ferelden in an attempt to find and aid the man in the Blight." It was succinct, though it left many a hole in the actual narrative.

"A question. Why a warrior? Are you not a mage?" The templar was thinking. I could see his steady (if a bit slow) thought-process.

"I simply do not want to expose my mage-y skills to any would-be hero trying for the bounty on my head. A warrior seems to be the furthest class from the mage." We shared a smile at the word. Mage-y. I could be humorous too.

A frown crept back on his face as he processed this."A bounty?"

"Yes. Do not worry; I do not think anyone wants to risk it after such a long time of assassins not reporting back to them." This was true enough. They never even found the bodies.

There was silence, as he pondered further.

"Was the man you knew… was he called Duncan?" Alistair's voice was solemn, and he looked quite sad. He seemed to have been quite close to the former.

"Yes. Daylen told me what happened at Ostagar. I am sorry." And I was. Duncan was a good man, and had touched many people's lives, including mine. Alistair was nodded silently, murmuring his thanks. It wasn't long, however, before he recovered from his reverie and asked more questions again.

"So… Why don't you think yourself as Orlesian?" Another idle question, but I suppose I had set myself up for that one.

"The bounty you asked about? Issued by the Chantry, but paid for by the Empress herself." Inconsequential nonsense. My life in exchange for gold was a fact since I was born.

"Ouch. For what crimes?" To his benefit, he looked worried. Perhaps it was for my benefit, or simply genuine consideration at the potential problems my presence would entail.

I laughed. Yes it was, in a way. "My being alive is a crime, a sin. Why should I consider myself a citizen of the same place that wants me dead?" We were silent again. "So… Do I get to ask semi-personal questions about you too?" Information-trading is a good way of building rapport, no?

"Sure." He didn't appear guarded at all, settling back with ease. How refreshing.

"You're Chantry-trained, have a personal link to Arl Eamon and are hiding a huge secret." I finished, after thinking deeply about the implications I've noticed thus far.

"That's… kind of not a question. You know that right?" He mused, though the smile did appear slightly strained.

I wasn't really listening, but formulating a conclusion."Ah- yes, of course. A royal-bastard—is that it?"

"I… What? You— you made that connection how?" He panicked, almost falling into the fire as he got hastily to his feet.

I grabbed him by the shirt before he fell face first into the flames, but I ignored his questions, still intent on my train of thought. "Yes. Oh, yes, I do have a question after all. How do you feel about mages?" It was then we were staring deep into each other's eyes, almost too close for propriety's sake.

The poor man gaped at me, aghast at my rapid formulations, barely aware that his hair was on fire. I quenched the flames, patting his slightly singed hair and let go of him, where he fell to the ground with an 'oof'. I wasn't asking if he was interested in me, however. If he was made king of these lands, he would be most helpful in freeing the mages from the claws of the Chantry in Ferelden that masquerading as simple 'protection'. Maker only knew how much Empress Celene was unable to stand up to the Divine in Orlais, even for her own cousin.

"I shall be here, when you find the strength to speak again," I hid the hint of a smile with my hand, and added more kindling to the fire. He was painfully awkward, and most fun to tease.

He muttered, barely audible over the small cracklings of the fire. "You know, you sound a lot like Morrigan."

"Do I? Is she the mage who was dressed to kill?"

"Yes, that's her. With her black feathers and witchy indecency."

"Interesting." I had to bite back a laugh at his turn of phrase, poking at the flames with a stick.

"That's all? You _don't_ have any more revelations?"

I paused, turning to look at him. "You sound… annoyed. Should I have not said anything about the mage thing?"

"That's… not it. Why did you ask me that anyway? Did you—"

"I was merely wondering if you thought that all mages should be kept locked up in that Tower when they could be so much more useful elsewhere."

"Ah… That. Um, well…" He had not made that connection, which meant that he probably thought that I was interested in him.

"I assure you I am not out to draw you in like some fish with my _loveliness_ as bait." I bit back another laugh. He was adorably awkward, but I wanted to stay as far away from royalty as I could.

"….You're hilarious, you know that?" Alistair had trouble keeping his face straight.

"I can be when I try." I shrugged, better that I'm funny than scary, Alain often said back in Orlais.

"So… I guess I don't have to hide anything around you, do I?" He cocked his head on to a side, watching me intently.

I grinned, more to myself, than for his benefit."I doubt you'd be able to, but you're welcome to try, Alistair." He was painfully transparent for a grown man.

"I see. Well, _Kiera_, are we on first name terms then?" He had brightened significantly. Sigh, I do seem to attract the templars, don't I?

"I'd very much prefer that, over calling 'Hey you' over everyone at camp."

"True." He had a really nice smile. Oh no. I had to focus, giving myself a mental slap.

Niceties settled, I took out my journal and made swift, scribbled notes on its pages. The details of the past few days were written in no time at all, and I idly started to doodle along the edges of the paper. Mostly butterflies and pretty things, keeping me awake. He kept looking over at whatever I was doing, but did not interrupt. I suppose he was also busy reflecting on the recent state of events.

Second watch soon arrived, and I slipped into my tent, barely hearing Alistair giving his opinion of me to the others. They also enquired about my past, and to my relief, he told the version I gave him, if adding a few choice thoughts of his own. Daylen wasn't surprised at most of it (he, after all, knew me personally), and the lay sister, Leliana was made all the more curious.

No matter, I would tell them the whole truth in time. If there was even such a thing—'the whole truth'.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: 4th Chapter! I'll try to make things less tense, as well as provide a little more insight into the characters and their motivations. In the meantime—I hope you enjoy it! As always, please review!_

**4. Can the Tower get any Worse? Yes it can.**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>Daylen<span>

We left as soon as day broke; both Alistair and Kiera appeared to be anxious to make their way to the Tower. Frankly, I wondered about Kiera. She seemed awfully chipper to even want to pass by the Tower, let alone go back to it. Her departure all those years ago was suspicious at best, and I had no doubt Greagoir would be pissed at her _still_ being alive, even if she was now a Grey Warden. He was probably going to accuse of her being a _maleficar_, and attempt to arrest her on the spot. I suddenly didn't want to bring her along anymore. We should have brought Loki along.

"Is that… Carroll?" the woman in question whispered, a smile curling the edge of her mouth as we noted the young templar who stood on the edge of Lake Calenhad. I was frankly surprised that Greagoir had let the most dim-witted one out of the Tower in the first place, even if they had had too many of those on the inside. The previous boatman had been relieved of his position due to some mysterious mage business at the Tower.

From what we heard, it wasn't too reassuring. Some very ominous business was ahead.

"You, you're not looking to get across to the Tower are you? 'Cos I have strict orders not to let anyone pass. Not even a Mage." Carrol's nasal voice was even vaguely familiar. He was still annoying, though.

I sighed. "I am a Grey Warden, and I have important business at the Circle of Magi."

To my amusement, Carroll simply told me to prove it. "Prove it?" Kiera couldn't help but blurt. The templar was clearly touched in the head.

"Kill some darkspawn, come on! Let's see some righteous _Grey Wardening_." I could hear the collective groans coming from everyone. Carroll had evidently lost a great deal more of his senses since the last time we met.

It was getting awkward, and time was of the essence."Carroll, can we work something out?"

"Oh I don't know… You could just leave the two ladies with me; they don't need to go over the lake, do they? It just gets… a bit lonely here." By the Maker, so Templars had _urges_ too? How shocking. I was saved from answering by Kiera—"Maybe if you bring us across, there'll be something nice in store for you, Carroll?" She winked, while biting her lower lip suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. This was the kind of thing that had always gotten us out of trouble in the Circle, but had created a lot of unflattering rumours surrounding Kiera's honour.

"My… Er… Yes well, we should get going. Can we go now? Please?" Carroll suddenly became quite eager to help us. Too eager. Both Leliana and Kiera shared a laugh. Alistair shuffled awkwardly. Privately, I agreed with him, these _pretty_ maidens were very dangerous when they put their minds to it. _She_ had changed greatly physically in the last few years, but I was actually relieved that some of that imp I once knew was still in there, under that womanly exterior.

xOxOx

Leliana

"You might want to head inside first." Kiera said as she alighted from the boat. Carroll, our Templar boatman beamed in anticipation. The young woman had more than a few tricks up her sleeve, apparently, even if it did make the men in our party uncomfortable. We left her alone with the templar, entering the huge Tower and she followed, barely half a minute later. I wondered what she did to him, he was a Templar, after all—and that was a bit short to… oh here I go again, over-thinking things.

Kiera was grinning as she trailed after us, through the heavy doors. Ah such a girlish smile she had, and one of the most enthralling that I have seen. Alistair had mentioned that she was also Orlesian. How charmingly coincidental! I made a note to talk to her the next time we got to camp—she was a delightful treat, all the more emphasized by her mysterious past. There appears to be much more to her that meets the eye.

xOxOx

Kiera

This Carroll was still quite the fool, I supposed, even though he was quite of age. You'd think that _years_ would make a person mature—but no, mental state appeared to be in constant atrophy here in Ferelden.

All I did was to lean and whisper into his ears "_Pity. Men as delicious as yourself are in the wrong profession if anything—such a shame we can't do more," _with the barest of fingertips pressed against that cold platemail and Carroll was satisfied, just like that, with a compliment and the batting of my eyelashes.

I'll probably never understand why, but he was blushing and grinning as if something illicit and pleasurable had happened. Templars, all horribly repressed. At least in Ferelden they were less… strict, if compared to Orlais. This is, of course, my _humble_ opinion.

Daylen

I really didn't want to know what Kiera did to Carroll, as long as she didn't volunteer the information to anyone else. I don't know how many nights me and Jowan had spent wondering if the sweet little fifteen year old we knew back then was telling the whole truth about her 'encounters'.

What alarmed me was the desperation I saw on Knight-Commander Greagoir's face, even as he grumbled at Carroll's apparent oversight. The Tower must be in bad shape, apparently so full of carnage that these self-serving idiots had sealed the doors, not even bothering to check for survivors. He also almost attacked Kiera when he recognized her, though all she did was stare him down with that new steely gaze that she had learnt since their last encounter. Kiera had apparently learnt a new way of dealing with bullies; one that did not involve manipulative weeping. Alistair also looked ready to jump between both of them, which was a curious gesture in itself. Could it be that he liked her—_already_?

So the Tower was having trouble with abominations. This was news, but we couldn't just sit around waiting for the Right of Annulment. Cowards, all of them. We had to find out for ourselves—if anyone was left inside, uncorrupted. Maker, no matter how much I hated this place, the people I knew… were still somewhere in there.

I noticed that Kiera was pensive; she had gotten really quiet after we passed through the heavy barred doors. She didn't appear afraid, but seemed to be keenly considering something, barely paying attention until we came upon Wynne.

xOxOx

Alistair

The walls and floor were covered in what appeared (or rather I hoped) to be just flesh, bulbous sacs and corpses—these luckily held no nasty surprises as we traversed the halls. Mages and Templars alike, strewn all over. We saw no abominations in the apprentices' quarters, just beds and chests. Daylen stopped and examined a particular chest, before shoving it aside and digging out a flagstone with a dagger.

He removed sheaves of paper from the resulting hole, as well as a small bag containing what appeared to be bottles of lyrium. To my surprise, Kiera did the same in another small corner of the room, revealing yet another pouch of the like, as well as a leather-bound book. The last time she was here was at least four years ago, and yet her hiding place had remained undiscovered. Quite the feat.

What made me all the more curious were her words, "Daylen, I can't believe you never searched this area. Four years. And to think I left all of these for both you and Jowan."

She raised an eyebrow, while Daylen looked sheepish. Were they 'together' during their Circle days? Would they continue to be involved? For a strange reason, I felt vaguely distracted by these thoughts.

We happened upon an older woman, a mage, who appeared to be holding up a shield of sorts as she yelled at us to state our business or die if we were abominations. Daylen seemed particularly embarrassed by the woman's presence, even as Kiera remained aloof. Neither of them seemed to like her very much.

xOxOx

Leliana

"Wynne? What are you doing here?" Daylen stepped forward, looking as if he knew that no one else would speak up, and he should address the older woman. The poor man looked incredibly guilty and swallowed audibly, even as he tried to appear calm.

"I could say the same for you, young man. You… aren't an illusion, are you?" The white-haired mage looked uncertain, as did the rest of the young children. We did not seem to be welcome here.

"Er… no. We're here to help." Daylen shuffled his feet. He looked to Kiera, but she shrank back behind Alistair. Neither of them seemed willing to face the shrill elderly woman. "The Templars have already sent for the Rite of Annulment, and… we told him that we would try and find the First Enchanter Irving before that arrives."

"You are? Good. Let's get to it then." The woman seemed tired, but suddenly very willing to tag along in the party.

It was then Kiera blurted loudly, "It's alright, Wynne, you should rest, we'll handle the Tower by ourselves." She crept out from behind Alistair, trying to look as inconspicuous, even then.

To my disbelief, the elderly mage blew up, and screeched at the poor girl.

"YOU! How dare you come back here! Irving vouched for you with the Templars by letting you undergo the Harrowing early and you returned that favor by escaping the very next day! Tell me now, are you a maleficar? Have you a demon in your power? I knew you were trouble—we should have—" Even Alistair was taken aback by the outburst, almost stepping into the line of fire, between both women, as if to shield Kiera from the verbal attack. Kiera stopped him with by taking a step forward, preventing his sideways movement.

"Should have what? Let the Templars kill me?" Kiera said quietly. She didn't seem fazed by the accusations, merely appearing calm and waiting for the woman to finish her furious tirade. The girl's silent gaze was a good weapon in any argument, I saw. She appeared to be evaluating the situation, and her eyes showed the strength that was very attractive in any young man or woman.

I do believe I was smitten by her refreshing behaviour.

The older mage fell silent, oddly cowed by her calm words—but continued scowling at Kiera. Luckily, Daylen had stepped in and suggested that the Tower's condition was more important than any of their previous quarrels with each other. Neither said anything more, and when Wynne removed the barrier, the lovely young mage fell back behind Alistair. She apparently didn't care to be any closer than she absolutely had to, to the older woman.

Alistair

We walked on silently through the halls, watching both Daylen and Kiera try out the summoning sequences that were found on the apprentice's notes left everywhere. Wynne looked most disapproving whenever Kiera passed her hands over the summoning flame, almost spitefully so. I don't understand the animosity, though. The girl was obviously much better at a lot of the spells than Daylen even, and the happiness that showed on her face as she performed those enchantments was almost radiant, given the creepy surroundings. Hey, maybe that's why the older mage was annoyed. Was she… possibly jealous?

Both Daylen and Kiera had such satisfied looks on their faces that no one questioned their hold on their sanity as they dispatched the summoned bereskarn and _laughed_ as two other images faded away.

"I don't know about you, but something about these tedious exercises makes me feel so glad we're both not apprentices anymore." Kiera said, smiling.

"Well, I liked it—just a matter of following instructions, although those I'm not so good at, even now." Daylen chuckled as the final apparition disappeared, but not before Leliana grabbed a torn piece of paper labeled "_Codex_".

Bits of history seemed to appear in the strangest places, though most of those were helpful in our travels.

"Let's just move on and try not to get caught up in childish games while there are people still to save?" The old lady all but barked at the two mages, hissing under her breath "_Children_" in a really frustrated tone of voice.

Kiera stopped smiling, and it was like the sky being unexpectedly overcast—those eyes of blue stopped gleaming— and she nodded, falling back into line behind me. She really did not like old ladies. They did not appear to like her very much, either.

We walked on for a while more, climbing an impossible amount of steps before I heard a furtive "Psst. A-alistair. Alisssstairrr—" I looked over my shoulder at Kiera, and grinned.

It felt like I was back in the Chantry and Brother Lucio was giving one of those boring lectures on how to deal with panicking villagers and their crises of faith while the rest of us passed notes surreptitiously around the classroom. Even I got a note during that long, lazy afternoon—it was a drawing of the good Brother waving his hands desperately while mobs of ugly villagers pillaged about the place, tearing at his robes, while he continued speaking the Chant of Light.

Well here we got scorching glares from the mage (again), but Kiera just shoved something into my hands before the schoolmistress could turn both of us to stone with those fearsome eagle eyes.

I looked down at the bundle of cloth, unwrapping it to find a small golden statuette of a robed woman. I wonder if anyone had already told her about my secret obsession with these little things. I stowed it away in my pack safely as Wynne sniffed disapprovingly, before quickly mouthing a 'Thanks' to the woman trailing behind me. I would thank her more personally later, when we could finally get some time away from the unholy things that existed inside the Tower, I could definitely get used to this.

xOxOx

Leliana

I tried to ignore the awful smells of the place; the acrid gore that clung to the walls was plain… ugh. Following Daylen as best as I could, edging around the pools of suspicious bodily fluids, I slipped and I found myself clinging desperately to his right arm. He helped to steady me and appeared to be more distracted by the death around us than the pretty girl who had grabbed him for support. I suppose I shouldn't be thinking too much of it… but I was surprised to find his arm so… wonderfully muscled. I briefly wondered what he looked like without the robes—and coughed embarrassedly—such thoughts were unbecoming, given the awful surroundings.

The abominations we saw were well… abominable. Creatures with bulbous features that looked… wrong, possessing incredible strength and these… exploded into flames when defeated—made for horrible battles. All of us were slightly singed by the time we got to the third floor.

Kiera

We came across blood mages on the next floor, and the next. I saw people I once knew; become the monstrous things that are more terrifying than any darkspawn. Neither Daylen nor I had the heart to kill the single surviving blood-mage of the trio that we had defeated in self-defence, so we stopped, casting around for opinions before deciding her fate. It was so easy to kill without thinking, but when I thought about how very nearly it was the same for me… I fervently hoped that I was not becoming a hypocrite.

"Please, if you spare me I... I could escape and seek penance at the Chantry." She was begging for her life.

"You know they'll probably never take you. They're very picky about who they let in. Harlots, murderers, yes. _Maleficarum_, oh no..." Alistair was right, apostates and maleficarum were not an option for any orthodox Chantry. He was an odd templar. Very amusing, to say the least.

"Your comments betray your ignorance, Alistair. The Chantry accepts all, regardless of what they've done." Daylen looked up at Leliana's voice, who, for all her worldliness, was hopelessly enamoured with the 'official' teachings of the Chantry.

"Well, it seems you're familiar with a whole other Chantry, because the one I know wouldn't hesitate to shove a sword of _mercy_ right _through_ her heart." I had to hide a smile at that—it was inappropriate to experience any mirth given the grim situation. Even if it was painfully ironic. And true.

To my relief, Daylen decided to let the poor woman go, reasoning that the main doors would only open when we found First Enchanter Irving. I wondered if he knew about my own skill with the forbidden magicks—would he be mad, just as he was with Jowan? I tried not to think about it. I admit that the years away from both of them were not spent thinking about either of them—I was so focussed on my own life that I did not stop to wonder how they spent theirs.

I knew had to explain all of this to Daylen soon, even if he did not want to hear them. Would anything be different if I'd never left them behind?

* * *

><p><em>P.S.: Thanks for reading!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

5: So the Tower gets worse- Some Blood and Fade content

_A/N: This part always takes me ages to complete, so I always finish the Tower asap- so some of the details might be inaccurate, but otherwise, I do my best!_

Wynne

We came across a demon that had enthralled a Templar in one of the rooms on the Third Floor. Its indecency was shocking, but not more so than the poor man who was under its power. Daylen demanded the man's release, and predictably, the demon refused. It was then the Templar raised his own sword in fury and attacked me—but a single blow from Kiera took his head off in an instant. Blood spurted all over us (and I must admit that I was a little in shock) as I saw the child charging forward and decimating the demon in a similar fashion. No one had even moved from their respective positions. It appeared that she had indeed changed since four years ago; although whether this was for the better remained to be seen.

Kiera stood over the corpses, and wiped the blood off her weapon. She also removed the man's armour, tossing the gloves to Alistair. "You're about his size, so here, put it on—and get out of that battered splintmail."

The young man blinked in response, as stunned as the rest of us. Kiera did not appear to notice however, as she opened a flask of lyrium and coated her bare hands in the bluish liquid, before casting in quick succession, frost and flame spells onto the bloodstained platemail. She then took out a small rag from her pack, cleaning the away the gore with a single wipe. It was apparently a very useful maintenance method, if used in the grisly and morbid way that she did.

Then, looking up to find Alistair to have not moved one whit, she got to her feet, lugging the now-shiny armour behind her.

"I do not appreciate the fact that you enjoy risking your neck by lunging at every moving enemy—at least not while you are so poorly equipped. Either _you_ remove _your_ armour on _your_ own, or I will personally _tear_ the splintmail off you. It's a disgrace, and you should know better." Her otherwise reasonable tone held a slight waver of anger, and to my surprise, Alistair obeyed her without a second thought. She appeared to be genuinely concerned for his safety.

"Fine, fine, I'm trading my trusty spintmail for some Templar uniform. You know, if you wanted to see me dressed in this, all you had to do was to say so." The young man grinned cheekily, pulling on the silver platemail.

"Oh, now that you mention it—I've wondered how you'd look in actual Templar gear," Kiera paused and helped him with the rest of the equipment, before stepping back to appraise the resulting image. "Hmm, I never thought about it that way… You, in a skirt. How… kinky."

By the Maker, both of them were still flirting! Kiera had obviously not changed in her inclination to corrupt others, having matured into a formidable _temptress_ since her escape from the Circle. It was certainly no coincidence that both of her closest friends, Daylen and Jowan had followed suit and from what I'd heard—one had helped the other, a blood mage, escape the Tower only _weeks_ ago. I turned away quickly, and stalked out of the room, unable to stand any more of the nonsense.

Daylen

Wynne stormed out of the room in a huff, as Leliana stifled giggles at the curious new attire that Alistair had donned. The old woman was right—it didn't appear to be the right time for either of them to be bantering so lightly, but I knew that humour was a large part of the both of them; Alistair jested frequently, while Kiera was always making fun of people. Still, I was impressed by the latter's resourcefulness; Alistair's splintmail was indeed disgracefully dirty and worn. In the time they took to dress the steadily blushing man, It struck me just how much Kiera had changed—she no longer spoke in the same lilting pattern that would have identified her as Orlesian, her new hairstyle was also very misleading; the long fringe on either side of her face made her appear older than she really was. I also had never seen her outside of the Circle's robes, which would probably explain why I did not recognise her at RedCliffe.

And yet, there was no excuse for her not calling out to me—I still looked the same, or at least very similar to the me that she had left behind; even at twenty-three, I didn't even need to shave yet. However, I suppose that these questions can wait till the next we made Camp, that is, if the Templars and their cowardly Right of Annulment did not kill all of us first.

We followed Wynne when the two had quite finished doing up the straps to Alistair's new clothes, into a room where we found a different looking abomination, standing over yet another familiar mage. The lifeless body was Niall's, a kindly, if odd man who had offered much-needed confidence when I was to undergo the Harrowing. He told me to trust myself, and no one else, and that made the Mouse I came across in the Fade immediately suspicious. He was also to be my mentor, despite his youth, and to see him like that, sprawled on the floor, snapped something in me. The sloth demon's sombre voice grated my own reserves of rage, and cleared my thoughts as the rest of us succumbed to a forced slumber.

xOxOx

Daylen

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Duncan, the same Duncan who had conscripted me from the Circle. He smiled at me and welcomed me into the large green halls of Weisshaupt, which looked suspiciously like Ostagar. He was also very much… alive, and if one was to trust the healthy, jovial man who heartily clapped me on the back, laughing about the apparent victory that we never had. This was a lie, the man wasn't Duncan, and the Blight wasn't over, not by a long shot. The demon had tried to placate my fury by giving me this peaceful semblance of a dream, and had failed miserably. He evidently had no skills in desire, if this sad excuse of a dream was meant to distract me from finding my missing companions, as well as taking revenge on his soon-to-be sorry ass.

Touching the fade pedestal, I found myself transported to yet another area, where I came upon Nial. His presence confused me. Was he trapped in the Fade too? Was it possible, that we could escape? To my disappointment, he did not appear to recognise me, nor did he want to join me in exploring the place. Nial was apparently a coward, and had resigned himself to having lost out to the sloth demon, and his self-defeating attitude frustrated me, and I left—disgusted at his behaviour.

xOxOx

In the Fade, I battled more fiends—burning corpses, templars, even mabari hounds. I was so close to screaming by the time I stumbled upon Kiera, who was calmly sitting on a bed. She looked up at me, and I saw that she had been crying. I wondered what kind of dream that the demon had chosen for her, she rarely cried real tears, always faking those with surreptitious droplets from a small flask in her right sleeve. We left together, going back the way we came. She seemed to be able to traverse the Fade as successfully as I did, even as the rest of our party— Wynne, Alistair and Leliana had faded away upon realising that their own situations were mere trappings.

I looked over at the other mage, grateful for her presence; the last few places we had travelled to were filled with golems and crazy mages—all more deadly than the pathetic bosses who protected the regions. It was she who had found out that the demons ruling each place were susceptible to a quick freezing and shattering combo, and we almost had fun, taking these formidable demons and forcing them into childish counterparts of a dangerous freeze-tag. We took turns casting, one would do Cone of Cold, while the other did Crushing Prison, or even Stonefist.

It felt like old times again, us coming up with crazy combinations of spells—we had one that could change an arcane shield into a silence bubble; which would ensure total secrecy for no one on the outside could hear us. The sad side effect was that we took several days to cure ourselves of the selective hearing that plagued everyone else in the Tower—no one heard our voices for days—and we had to write a note to Greagoir, begging him to cleanse us of the spell. Those were some of the days that I had had the most fun, ever. Fighting alongside Kiera made it all the more clear how relieved I was that she hadn't disappeared forever.

xOxOx

Kiera

When we went under—unconscious, as the sloth demon willed it, I found myself staring at the high, stone ceiling of the Mage quarters. I saw my friends, Jowan and Daylen—we shared the same room, having all passed our Harrowings around the same time. We were to train together with the other mages, and hopefully be able to train some apprentices in the same manner by which we had been taught. Yet, a nagging feeling at the back of my head tugged at my thoughts, causing several of my fireballs to explode before I could aim it at the target. I couldn't concentrate, something was telling me, that none of the things I saw, none of the friends laughing along with me were real.

I had a bad feeling about all of this, as well as a growing headache. Jowan was too cheery, Daylen too funny—and none of the books they were reading from were real. I mean, _"Ways to train a Dragon?" _and_ "One thousand and One Uses of Elfroot that would Curl Her Toes"?_ Those would never be in the library, or part of _their_ reading list. And yet here they were, giggling like idiots at the material. Abruptly, I struck out—catching Daylen across one smooth cheek. He stopped grinning and touched the new cut I had just given him. It was in that one moment that I knew that all of it was an illusion, and both 'Jowan' and 'Daylen' were demons masquerading as copies of my friends—Daylen would have just healed the wound shut, almost unthinkingly. He wasn't one for grudges either.

"Why did you do that? That hurt."

"Ah… um… I saw a fly?"

"And you decided to kill it with a punch."

"I'm paranoid—I use excessive force on everything."

"Really. Well—don't do it again." Both of them rolled their eyes, unconvinced.

"Sure." I muttered, before freezing them both, as well as the senior enchanters with a Blizzard spell. Then, taking my time, I walked around to each of them, crushing them all before the ice could thaw completely. I left 'Jowan' and 'Daylen' for the last; the demon had chosen the wrong people to impersonate. And for that, they paid for it in full as I casted Crushing Prison on both, watching them squirm and twist in pain before shattering. I staggered back to the bed—and quite shocked to find my face wet; tears that wouldn't stop as I kept reliving that image, of my best friends, writhing in utmost agony before they crumbled into pieces. I looked up when I heard some footsteps approaching, and it was Daylen, the real Daylen who had found me. I was relieved, and hurriedly wiped my face dry before he could see my tears.

We found the rest—all trapped in their own dreams and nightmares, where I was almost tricked into doing the same. Wynne had fared the worst, all she could think about did the children whom she had failed, mindlessly trusting the images that were present. Alistair apparently yearned for his sister, and her four, or six, children. Oh, and her minced pie. Leliana puzzled me the most—she was obsessed with the 'peace' and 'sanctity' the Chantry provided, but even she trusted Daylen long enough to see the 'Mother' turn into yet another rage demon. That was a poetic image—I thought, the Chantry's hypocrisies evolving into the evil it hid. It helped me get over my own failing; at least I got rid of my demons before Daylen showed up. I wonder what he woke up to?

xOxOx

Leliana

"Figures," the young mage next to me muttered. "Apparently sloth demons aren't _also_ susceptible to freezing."

"Did you really think that it'd be that easy? Then you're more naïve than I thought." Wynne scoffed, rolling her eyes." Trials like these are the very reasons rules were enforced upon mages, and the Tower—impetuous youths would never understand until they've brought the same destruction upon others."

"Hey how was I supposed to know that—exactly? We didn't come across any _sloth_ demons when we _fought_ our way out of the Fade islands." Kiera shot back, while recasting the auras on all of us.

"That, and the same strategy had worked marvellously on all those that we did meet—Wynne." This came from Daylen, who seemed a lot more willing to stick up for himself, and his friend—Kiera. And for once, I saw the older woman shut her mouth reluctantly—the two youths apparently were ganging up on the poor old lady. I also noticed that both Daylen and Kiera appeared to have gotten over an invisible barrier, and were casting in unison; one on the offensive, and the other focussing on defensive spells.

Both were even more attuned to everyone's position, constantly moving so as to keep everyone in their line of sight. Kiera tended to make sure that Alistair, our main damage dealer— was out of the range of her fireballs, while Daylen 'hasted' my actions, making sure we had the upper hand in the battle. They were unstoppable as allies, and with their combined wardings and shielding—we escaped the demon's form in the Fade, coming to (a little stiffly) in reality. I can't say I envied their position as mages, but the camaraderie they showed made me feel a little… inadequate. Daylen and she were very close.

"Well… we still have one more floor to go. Let's hope everyone's still alive." Alistair gruffly muttered as he struggled to his feet. He too wasn't overjoyed about the apparent shifts in relationship Daylen and Kiera displayed in the Fade. I think he likes her. She is very pretty. Daylen was very… nice-looking too, I thought, as I watched the handsome man in question stoop over the body of the mage—Nial, and take something, a small scroll Wynne had called the Litany of Adralla, before leading the way to the next floor.

OxOxO

_P.s.: Hm… Does this count as romance? I hope so! Heh. _


	6. Chapter 6

6. Finally leaving the Tower: Confessions of a Blood Mage

_A/N: Whew, finally done with the Fade and its general mayhem. Really wanted some of Uldred's more priceless lines in there, but... I also wanted to get them out of the Tower as soon as possible- I really hate that place. Please review when you're done! :D  
><em>

Kiera

We continued our way through the Tower, clearing it of the remaining abominations. It struck me how many Templars had been enthralled by desire demons—their quarters on the fourth floor appeared to contain nothing but the like. Figures. I felt a little bad mowing them down—they weren't as bad as the ones I had seen in Orlais, and some of them were quite… civil. I also almost hit Alistair—well at least we found the downside to the new armour. Immense confusion.

"These things are hard to see in, you know." Alistair whined, as he fiddled with the helmet. I agreed with him—one could hardly see that rather… attractive visage with the metal in the way, but it was for his own safety— for as far as I knew, the wardings in standard Templar platemail prevented the worst of any offensive magic.

We came upon a Templar, trapped in a strange prison. Daylen and Wynne recognised him, even as he appeared to be stark raving mad.

"No, go away, I- I know what you are, I—I'm not falling for your tricks." He moaned in our general direction.

"Cullen? Are you alright?" Daylen walked up to the shimmering circle that surrounded the Templar.

To my annoyance, the Templar only shouted even louder—about how we were all illusions, and even refused Leliana's offer of water rather rudely. He was half-crazed, driven mad by the blood mages, he claimed. I wanted to leave him be—the way he stared at us made me extremely uncomfortable.

"You see? You are illusions, meant to torture me—Her!" he screeched, pointing directly at me.

"She's a demon, isn't she? No woman I know looks like that—you're… sent to torment me with my own sinful desire—" I didn't know whether to be flattered, or mortified. Maybe this was the reason why everyone thought I was some demonic 'temptress' from the Fade—my unholy features and my ability to entice _even_ Templars. How shocking that I didn't look like any other woman. How many could _they_ have met outside the Tower anyway?

"This… is a waste of time." I muttered—ascending the steps to the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds I heard from within were… in need of more attention than another repressed Templar.

Cullen—or whatever his name was, having finally realized that we weren't illusions, warned us of the dangers within—begging us to kill all the mages that were left. I ignored him, and just pushed open the door, walking in, with Alistair and Daylen close behind—Wynne and Leliana slightly later, having occupied themselves by fussing over Cullen's apparently drained appearance. What I saw past those doors made me sick, and I felt rage—unspeakable horror and fury at Uldred's actions in the Tower. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands.

Daylen

Past the doors to the Harrowing Chamber, we saw Uldred electrocute—no, torture, another mage. The poor man was drawn up by some unseeable force, and surrounded by two abominations. Kiera was trembling violently next to me—but suddenly, seeing the man writhe in agony, she sprang forward with a spell of her own, of such strength that Uldred, or whatever that was— was flung backwards, along with the two abominations, into the far wall.

She didn't give any of us a second glance, and strode over to the man, and the other mages, soothing their wounds with small cooling spells, while healing the worst of their cuts with larger ones. To my surprise, Uldred still seemed willing to talk, having practically glided across the distance, over to us. I had planted myself in front of Kiera—if he was going to pay her back, he was going to have to get past me. I found Alistair's Templar-y presence most comforting, if it was going to be us against them three; at least we had some defense against the offensive spells in the upcoming fight.

"I see that you have survived your journey up the Tower. Unfortunately, it also means that my servants are dead."

"I know… I was not impressed." I stalled, hoping Kiera could use the extra time to get the rest of the Mages conscious, and preferably out of harm's way.

"Well… it is not so easy to be loved everywhere." 'Uldred' replied. Was he/it making a joke? "I hope you know why it is we're doing this—" he began again, but Kiera interrupted him coldly, "Shut up."

"Your magic is a gift—as is what I offer to you, you will be stronger—" he started, Kiera merely drew her blade, unheeding. "WE are strong enough—and do not care for you and your supposed 'gift'. You and your little friends will now DIE."

I casted shieldings on all of us, Wynne and Leliana had just arrived through the doors.

"Fine. Die then." Uldred morphed into a huge, 8 feet tall creature, very formidable indeed. Unfortunately, he too was stopped short by Kiera's freezing spells. She hacked away at the iced abomination, calling for us to dispatch his minions quickly. Alistair joined her, and the two blocked Uldred from the mages, even as it kept trying to change them into abominations with that severely overused line; "Do you accept the gift I offer?"

I threw the Litany of Adralla at Wynne, "Stand near the mages and use it when he tries that—I don't want to have to kill any more of people I once considered family." I wasn't so sure about her abilities to continually cast healing spells on us, but her staunch attitude towards demons and their 'gifts' would make it more difficult for Uldred's attempts to twist those mages too. That, and the fact that if the Litany failed, Wynne would be most able to scold them out of any potential abomination-making decisions.

Leliana

It seemed like forever, but when both Daylen and I had finally killed the two abominations, we turned to find Kiera roaring, and jumping high, sinking both her blades into the demon's chest—tearing madly. Alistair had been hit; his crumpled body lay off to the side. I immediately shoved Daylen in Alistair's direction—Wynne was busy with the other mages, and I had to stop Kiera; the demon was dead, defeated, and yet she continued digging both swords into its flesh. What had apparently set her off was that the demon had laughed—right after Alistair was thrown to the side. She was still scarily focused on making minced lamb out of the demon, but someone had to stop her.

"Kiera, please, it's over." I gripped both her arms, pulling her off the demon. She was panting heavily, and barely coherent. She could not stand, and sank to her knees, and I held her violently-shaking body. She soon calmed down, and looked like she was about to break down, but scrambled unsteadily to her feet when she saw one of the other mages walk towards her. She glanced worriedly in Alistair's direction, and seemed torn, when the other mage addressed her.

"Kiera? Thank the Maker; I can't believe you're still alive, child!" The older mage grabbed her by the shoulders, before giving her a quick hug. Kiera looked embarrassed again, flushing terribly, but she excused herself, running over to Daylen and the still-unconscious Alistair. She muttered something to her friend, and made him approach the First Enchanter—the Irving that the Knight-Commander had mentioned before. Kiera appeared to be healing Alistair herself, apparently having no faith in poor Daylen's skills. I turned to focus my attention on the latter, who looked quite dashing even with a stressed expression and a rigidity to his movements. Wynne appeared to be expressing her relief at the relatively good health of this Irving, as well as her formulations regarding Kiera's sudden reappearance.

Kiera

I panicked when I saw Alistair get swept away, crushed into a heap a few feet away— and I charged Uldred, half-crazed. It didn't help that it was laughing, and that really stabbed something deep in my gut. I wanted it to stop, that screeching laughter to end, for Alistair to get up and continue fighting at my side. Leliana had to yank me off the demon; even I could feel its remains get cold. I still wanted to stab it some more, until nothing was left, until… I got to my feet as Irving neared, I was in no state to address him, and he would want to know how I ran from the Circle. I needed to see how Alistair was, and Daylen's back was blocking my view.

Alistair wasn't breathing, and Maker, I didn't stop to think—I drew my blade across my palm, muttering in Tevinter, forcing the resulting well of _redness_ into a spell of healing, as it touched his lips. I felt the life come back into his body, into those cheeks, and I stopped, sealing my own wound shut. I was thankful that Daylen had already patched his ribs and lungs up—I was rather drained after the blood magic—and couldn't even stand properly. I suddenly remembered where we were—and with the senior enchanters just a few feet away… I decided I didn't care anymore. Alistair had opened his eyes, and that was more important than anything.

Daylen

We led First Enchanter Irving down the many flights of stairs, and he seemed more distracted by Kiera than the horrific conditions that were the new interior of the Tower. She answered his questions about the last four years with civility and very little actual information, save her joining the Wardens. He seemed relieved about our being in the Order, genuinely glad that we weren't here when the whole mess began.

I was rather more focused on Alistair's condition; he had truly died, back at the Harrowing Chamber. I felt no pulse, no breath in those long seconds I stemmed the blood flow and repaired his broken body. And yet there he was, moving, and able to walk down the steps like he felt no pain at all. I wondered what Kiera had done—she was always a genius when it came to coming up with spells, combinations and actual new enchantments that did wonders. She had been a favorite with Irving, although hated heartily by the other apprentices.

We left the Tower without much incident, but managed to get the mages to promise their support in saving young Connor's life back at RedCliffe. They would follow in a boat, but we left the Tower earlier, eager to leave its contents. Wynne had announced that she would join us, and although I half-expected Kiera to dismiss her, she seemed almost indifferent to the older woman's presence—drained, perhaps, but grew lively when we had made camp. We took first watch; I wanted to finally have her attention to myself—the time for to answer some questions had come.

xOxOx

Daylen

"Are you alright? You still look a little shook up."

"It's… nothing."

I watched her for a while; she looked pensive, not the normal Kiera. Something had affected her—she had said barely two words since the rest of the party slept. I had had enough. No more waiting around for her to tell me things—I needed to know what was up, before I could feel and act normal around her again.

"Something happened in the Fade?"

She still looked a little shell-shocked, but Kiera looked up and directly at me. "… What did you see in the Fade?" She was going for avoidance again. Well, no harm in that—as long as I remembered my original question, she wasn't going to be able to evade it this time.

"Nothing much really. I saw Duncan. And a really fake-looking 'Weisshaupt'."

"Wow. I wish I'd seen Duncan."

"Why? It's all fake."

"True." Kiera paused. "I had a major crush on him, you know." The little minx was actually smiling.

I couldn't believe what I heard, spluttering "What? But—"

"It's something about that voice. He has a very alluring baritone. You have no idea how just hearing him say my name felt like a wet dream come true."

"I'm… not listening… Lalalalala" I stuck my fingers in my ears and shut my eyes before she could (in Wynne's words) 'corrupt' me even further.

Kiera pulled my hands away, chuckling. "He's sooo cool. Like chiseled rock. There. I'm done gushing, so you can stop pretending that you're not listening now." She laughed gently.

I knew that she was feeling vulnerable, and so it was as good a time as any to get the information I wanted. "Back to my question then— what did _you_ see in the Fade?"

"The honest truth? I saw you… and Jowan. We were all Harrowed, and made full-fledged mages. It was… pretty awesome. It was like I'd never left."

It wasn't really what I'd expected. "Oh. So… what happened? How did you— never mind that. What I want to ask is… why did you leave? You know—four years ago."

There was a long pause, and I honestly thought that she would clam up right there and then. I did not expect her to reply. She sat there, staring blankly into the fire. "Because… I could."

"What?"

"If I had taken you, or Jowan, we'd get caught. I couldn't risk either of you, unharrowed and innocent to boot…"

"Innocent?" I scoffed. "You do realize that both of us have a few years on you?"

She glanced at me, briefly, before continuing on her quiet contemplation of the flames. "I didn't say age was a factor. I… I was—still am… a blood mage."

"WHAT!" I stood up, unable to believe my ears. First Jowan, now Kiera—by the Maker, was everyone I knew secretly a _blood mage_, and felt like they could not trust me with the knowledge? I stood there, staring at the girl who remained seated.

Alistair poked his head out of his tent, "Will you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here, you know." He was strangely crankier after his stint in the Fade. "Er… yeah, sorry." I whispered softly. The sleepy-faced man went back into his tent, mumbling something about mages and their abusing of the 'regen' spell.

"You too? I thought Jowan was the only—"

"I learnt blood magic before I even came to the Fereldan Circle. Why'd you think they wanted to transfer me so desperately away from Orlais?"

"Well I always thought they would have killed you if you were a blood mage, especially in Orlais."

"They could never prove it. Much as they tried. I stumbled on some strange books when I was cleaning the senior enchanters' rooms and I stole them, thinking that it was the right thing to do." I did not really trust this story of hers, but I suppose it was… reasonable.

"But you read them."

"Yes. I was curious. And I wanted to make sure these weren't just some secret dirty journal the older mages kept to amuse themselves with. I only continued reading past the first page because of what I saw on the contents page—Chapter 4: Fade-walking ."

"Oh. But why is that interesting?"

"I wanted to know why I could explore the Fade when I slept."

"What?" I yelped again. "What?" I asked again, quietly.

"I'm apparently a rare kind of mage. I can walk in the Fade. Oh wait, I forgot to mention that too huh?" Kiera frowned, but looked apologetically so. Well that made sense, given our circumstances in the Fade.

I just sat there, (trying to) process everything that she'd just said. I had no clue that she had been omitting this much when we were at the Tower. "Anything else you want to tell me?" I said when my tongue finally began to work again. My mind was still reeling from her words, and I suspected that the things that she had mentioned weren't even half the things she had kept a secret all these years.

"Well… there is more, but… I don't know how to break it to you without making your brain explode." She murmured hesitantly and sighed.

"That _big_ a secret?" Frankly, I was relieved, and curious, but—all of it was… well… a lot of it. I wasn't going to push that hard.

"Yes." Kiera looked away.

I lay on my back, looking up into the night sky. How strange that the stars all remained the same, even as earth-shattering secrets were revealed about my closest friend. I heard Kiera get up and walk to her tent, rummaging around before finally emerging. She tossed a stack of fabric in my direction—no, I correct that, she threw them on me. More specifically, on my face.

"Mmmpft," I struggled to get the cloths off, not expecting them to be quite so heavy, or suffocating. "What in the Maker are—?"

"Two shirts and a pair of trousers." Kiera stated, watching my actions carefully. When all she saw was a stunned look of confusion, she continued. "You know, you can wear them? They cover skin? You can't wear robes _all_ the time, you know."

I was still quite disoriented. "And what makes you think I can fit into yours? I am a good 6 inches taller than you."

To my surprise, she snorted. "Those are huge. I got them about 3 sizes larger. I think they'd fit the _qunari_ too, if he's into stretched tunics and potentially ripped pants. Hmm... Now there's a thought."

Ruefully, I surveyed the clothes. These looked new.

"I got them at Redcliffe. Think of them as makeup presents." She cocked her head, and appeared to be waiting for a response from me, and she continued. "I know, I'll get better ones soon—maybe when we drop by Denerim. I'm thinking silk. Hmm… but that's quite flammable. I'll think of something."

"Are they…for Birthdays?" Make up birthday presents. Huh.

"No, not really… I meant for them to be 'Congratulations on being Harrowed' or 'So you became a Grey Warden' presents."

"Oh." I was really astonished. "Wait. Did you recognize me before the battle at Redcliffe?"

"No, not really, I got them as we were leaving the village for the Circle." She appeared to be thinking.

"Well...um… Thanks." I didn't really know what to say. It was sort-of sweet of her to remember.

"They're also… not just shirts." Kiera appeared to be embarrassed; her voice was lower, and less sure.

I examined them much more closely. "Wait… you… embroidered them?" A small grey _(silver?)_ griffin was printed on the right breast of each shirt.

"Well… Yeah. You'd be surprised what I can do with a needle these days. The amount of time you have on a ship from Orlais really makes you learn new skills to pass the time."

"So… when exactly did you have time to do this?" I pointed at the embroidered griffins.

"Shortly before we reached the Lake Calenhad Docks. I had them done by dawn—woke up early." She walked over and sat down next to me by the fire. I got up and pulled on the pants, up under my robes as Kiera looked away. Then I pulled on the shirt, which fitted me quite well. I stood proudly, watching her appraising eyes.

"Thank you." And I meant it.

"I know. You look good in it." She looked happy, and that was enough for me.

_P.S.: A general 'awww' moment, at least I hope so. Again, thanks for reviewing! I'll continue to work hard!_


	7. Chapter 7

7. Fade, Nightmares and a little Screaming.

A/N: The plot will move faster from here on, and I might make some edits to my previous chapters to promote readability (reader-bility, ha!), but otherwise… Well I hope you guys enjoy it so far! Please review when you're done! :D

Alistair

The sun was rising over the rooftops as we reached Redcliffe, its rays glittering over Lake Calenhad—the first I've ever seen it this pretty. The glitter off the surface of the usually murky water made me think—of the rose that I picked in Lothering, it was still red and velvety, but I could tell that the age of time was killing it slowly. But how could I give it to anyone, least of all— her? We had just met, and her closeness with Daylen made it all the more likely that she would not reciprocate. I wondered, as I stood watching the village, come alive—looking almost homely, a happier place, even if it still stank of fish.

"Alistair?" She called, and I turned to face her. Strange, it was— that my own name sounded that much sweeter in her voice, even if the context was nothing more than a general query. And as much as I had hoped that she and Daylen weren't together, they seemed… so much happier, cheerful, perfect for each other. I also noticed that Leliana seemed to be on edge today, she had snapped at Wynne for nagging at the two young mages, calling her a sourpuss, whatever that is— I felt the same, I wanted to kick at everything that lay in the road, just awful.

Nevertheless, we hurried on to the castle's main hall, and were relieved to see everyone still alive—the demon apparently had not made another appearance. Kiera and Daylan went to talk to Jowan, the blood mage while Wynne stood off to a side, trying to eavesdrop on their private, _illicit_ conversation. She appeared to be having some trouble—they appeared to have casted some strange shield over themselves that impeded any of her nosiness. The mages from the tower arrived soon after, with Templars and lyrium in tow. I could see why the mages, save Wynne, tensed as they walked through the doors—these men seemed to bring with them an aura of business-like smiting on hand.

Morrigan was nowhere to be found, but there was a small black dog that sat close to Sten's feet—trying to look inconspicuous. I think Daylen had warned her about the Templars. He had also decided that Kiera would face the Connor's demon in the Fade, even if Wynne did make _small_ noises of protest.

He silenced Wynne with a snide remark, "Kiera was the _only_ one I had found _not_ trapped by the demonic illusions in the Fade, and I have faith that her abilities are _beyond_ yours." Frankly, I approved. He evidently trusted her to save Connor—regardless of how evil Wynne believed she was.

Kiera stepped forward, looking ready for the task ahead—gently shaking her head at Daylen's antagonistic behavior towards the older mage.

I watched her eyes reflect the glow from the lyrium, turning a mesmerizing violet. She appeared to be very focused—the hard determination I saw in those eyes heartened me. I knew, in that instant, that she would emerge unscathed, and all would be well. Apparently, I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

Daylen

Kiera had barely touched the lyrium when her body crumpled, forward onto the cold flagstones of the Main Hall. Alistair gave a small cry, reaching out for her, before being stopped by a Templar. Figures. None of us had thought to put something there to cushion her fall, and Maker only knew how pissed she would be when she came to with a bruise on her forehead.

Even Irving winced a little when he saw her hit the ground—and we shared a knowing look. In what felt like forever, but was really a quarter of an hour—Kiera regained consciousness, and absently rubbed the lump forming on her head. "It's done," she croaked, before getting to her feet. "However, there is something else ailing Arl Eamon—he remains unconscious." Wynne flew to her side—demanding to know what she had done to the demon that had enthralled Connor. "Gone. Dead. I don't know—I killed it in the Fade. Why, did you want to knit it a sweater?" Kiera frowned, annoyed, partially from the ache that plagued her head. However, from her gradually tensing stance, I knew that I had to distract the Templars before this turned into a cat fight—with lightning bolts.

Kiera

I glared at Wynne, annoyed at her ridiculous notions. It was true that the demon had tried to offer a 'trade'—but I wasn't going to bargain with the child's life—killing it (the demon, of course) in midsentence. I did not like preachy, overbearing things—immortal or plain old. I spun away from her, and walked off, trying to put as much distance as we could. I heard Daylen asking Bann Teagan whether the mages could stay for the night, and to my surprise, the latter agreed—something no other normal person would do. That gave him several more points in my books; his acceptance of mages was very… refreshing, in a 'Chantrified' land.

Yet, the Templars refused, insisting that Irving and the other mages get back to the Tower before nightfall. That ticked me off; irritated at how even the first fresh breath air for the First Enchanter in Maker knows how many years had to be regulated by Templars. I secretly wanted to conscript everyone in the Tower at the moment—I knew the Templars couldn't stop me. But I couldn't. We didn't have the materials to perform the Joining, and so I could only hug Irving goodbye, promising to visit as often as I could.

Daylen

The mages left, as I knew they would – the Templars were mercilessly trying to re-establish their control over them, that even a night away from the Tower was unthinkable. I rolled my eyes, but we saw them off, in boats from the Redcliffe docks. I wondered why we didn't think of that route in the first place. So much for hurrying back and forth as fast as we could.

xOxOx

Daylen

Arl Eamon was still unconscious, and that meant that we had to make a trip to Denerim, to find this Brother Genetivi, and learn where the Urn of Andraste's Sacred Ashes could be found. But first, we needed some proper rest, and Bann Teagan had the servants prepare a meal for us at the Castle, even as we were perfectly capable of putting up at the inn. Kiera had bullied Isolde into providing accommodation for the night, by complaining about how sore she was from the Fade, and how well Connor looked despite past drama. She really was a master manipulator, but she had gotten us rooms that were better than any tent, with actual beds, even if they were once meant for the less important guests the Arl entertained from time to time. We were tired and not picky.

xOxOx

Daylen

_I dreamt of the dragon—the archdemon, its roar, growls and other sounds called out to us, no, to the darkspawn, and also to us, the tainted. We were its servants—that would bring the surface back into its domain, those that tried to stop us would be decimated by the thousands. No. We weren't like them. I struggled in my own mind, trying to break free from its hypnotic calls. Gathered all around me were legions of darkspawn, unthinkable numbers, all in unison—waiting, just waiting for signals to invade. My own voice did not work—I was drowned out in my own dream—I knew it was a dream, but it was also reality, a reality that remained—at the end of the thirty years that was the time we had left, the final fight that we would face, assuming of course, we survived the Blight. The things turned in my direction, and watched me as I watched them. Their bestial eyes bespoke the terrible things that they lusted for—death, destruction, ruin, upon the whole of Thedas, of the whole world._

xOxOx

Kiera

_I saw the archdemon, rising up from the depths of the ground, and the horde stood there, watching, lingering—one goal united. The call of the dragon song was faint, a humming that thrummed in my very veins. I knew what it wanted—obedience, and it wasn't mine to give. Nothing would make me submit to anyone else—I had spent most of my life living the way I wanted to, and giving it all away for some distant dream would render all of it futile, which made the song so detestable. What I wanted was to kill it, my first act would be to make its song stop—the incessant nagging that I loathed intensely. The temptation to relent, to give over to the mindlessness was so simple, but so wrong. No one would ever have power over me again, even as I desired no more strength than I already have. I readied my blades, hearing the metal slide over metal—and judged the distance, and the bodies that separated me from my intended target._

But I awoke,and the dream vanished—when I heard screams coming from the next room.

I breathed. And acted, grabbing a sword before running out of my own room—to deal with the threat that was tormenting my best friend. I pushed open the door, to find my friend thrashing wildly in his sleep. He was casting in his sleep—confused spells of primal magic, too unfocused to be of any harm, but the violence of his movements made it impossible for me to get a good grip on his shoulders—to wake him up. So, I dropped my blade and sat on him, grabbing both his wrists and forced them above his head, away from me. I yelled into his ears for good measure, hoping that he would wake, since no other limbs of mine were particularly free.

He abruptly stopped fighting, and opened his eyes wearily, now shuddering badly. I relaxed my grip on his hands, and checked his vitals. Daylen's breathing and pulse was rapid, but steadily slowing. His flushed face showed his exhaustion, and pain—and I wiped the sweat that dotted his fevered brow. I must admit that when the other Wardens said that those who Joined during the Blight fared far worse, I thought it absurd. But as I saw my friend, my _almost_-brother wake from a nightmare that had elicited such excruciating cries, I hated what he had become, what I was a part of—the same things that shared a common mind with those that we were meant to kill. I touched my forehead to his, sighing my regret— for he should never have had to go through with this; perfectly ignorant of the awkward image we presented to the rest of our equally traumatized companions.

Alistair

"Kiera?" I found myself whispering, staring into the gloom beyond the open door. She appeared to be straddling Daylen on the bed, and as horrified as I felt, I just couldn't look away. She turned and surveyed me—us; Leliana and Sten were on either side of me. Kiera slipped off the bed (and Daylen), grabbing a sword off the ground and waved it at us.

"I heard screams—the dreams. Looks like the Grey Wardens were right; those who Join during the Blight really do have worse ones." She began walking towards us, and it struck me—how bare her thighs were, for she was wearing only a thin shift, a large tunic, for night clothes.

"Is that all?" I heard Leliana mumble ominously under her breath. I myself was speechless, watching that pale skin shift smoothly with the curve of muscles, very much conscious that she was barely dressed. I tore my eyes away before anyone could remark on my apparent lechery.

"I'm so sorry for having woken you all up—I…" Daylen sounded so uncomfortable, and remorseful that we began to find ourselves making up ridiculous reasons for our wakefulness.

"Ah no worries, I wanted to see if castle had a tower from which I could view the night sky—" Leliana began, and Sten muttered something about being trained to require very little sleep. Morrigan and Wynne were just appearing from their own chambers, but did not approach, seeing the crowd at Daylen's room.

"I… I was up because… I wanted to talk to Kiera. And I was hungry. Anyone want to raid the castle larder?" I blurted. Sure, I was jolted awake from my own nightmare by the same screams as everyone else, but it just wasn't polite to mention it _now_.

Kiera merely chuckled, leaning against the wooden door to the room, revealing more of that flawless skin. "Well, we should all get back to bed, hmm? We'll have to get to Denerim, and I would rather we leave before the arlessa finds us a nuisance at the breakfast table. Alistair and I will… stay with Daylen for the rest of the night—Grey Warden business, you know." She winked at me, and my heart skipped a beat—but the rest did not appear to have noticed, and trudged off.

She motioned me into the room, and shut the door behind her before diving on the bed, landing next to Daylen. I sat on its edge nervously, and was relieved that Kiera had gotten covers over her exposed legs. We were going to have a really long talk, and I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of the… couple. Sigh.

OxOxO

P.S.: Heh. If I'm going to make Alistair face some of Kiera's secrets—I might as well tempt him silly in the process. Sorry for the short chapter, a little busy with school at the moment :/


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8: Match-making in the process._

_A/N: I apologise for the chapter being a little too indulgent—well—people have to come clean before they can move from the awkward phase to the hot, steamy bits. Hehehe._

Daylen

I was mortified—my screams had woken the whole first floor, and the fact that everyone had made up other excuses for being awake made it worse. Still, I was grateful that Kiera had rushed in to wake me up, even if she had broken the lock in the process— while holding that vicious-looking blade she loved so much. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling, the fact that all of them came running as if I was in danger, but it was also… so very emasculating. We had the fireplace going with a quick blast of flame.

"So… Alistair, we have to tell you a few things." Kiera's voice, although low, broke through my thoughts of self-pity. The man looked vaguely alarmed, perched awkwardly at the edge of the bed. Kiera had thoroughly snuggled up in the sheets, hugging her knees whilst facing him; and somehow I knew that it was her pose that disturbed him more than her words. He was blushing, faintly, in the firelight—and tried not to look directly at her.

"Ah… um well… I think I already know, actually." He looked resigned, and hung his head—as if waiting for some severely bad news.

"You do? That's a surprise… And here I was thinking that we kept it on the… quiet," she was confused, as was I. What did he already know?

"It's… kind of obvious, you know. I bet even Leliana—"

"Leliana knows? Was it… that… apparent?" Kiera's panic-stricken eyes flicked to mine, but I was equally horrified.

"That you two have a thing for each other? Yeah." Alistair sighed, depressed, having got off the bed and started towards the door. We stared at him. It was such a strange thought, that anyone could picture us even… remotely involved.

Kiera reacted first, by laughing, hard. And I would have been slightly offended, if I wasn't doing the same. "Wait—you and Leliana think—that the two of us—us—oh Maker that's hilarious—I can't breathe—" She choked out, holding her sides, almost falling off the bed—grabbing Alistair (who was halfway out the door) and leading him back.

Poor Alistair. He gaped at us, confused by our mirth. He also seemed somewhat relieved. Well that wouldn't last very long. "The thing we want to tell you is that… well it's more of a concern for the Grey Wardens—so we weren't kidding about the official bit." I managed to get that entire bit out, while still gasping for air.

"So… what is it?" He posed his question warily, when we could finally straighten our aching faces.

"Oh… yes. Um… After your Joining, did Duncan say anything about doing 'whatever was necessary' to fight darkspawn?" Kiera was suddenly very solemn, her words revealed the amount of thought she had put into this.

"Yes, he… did. Duncan said that as Grey Wardens, our duty was to—defeat darkspawn, at all costs… What's this about—exactly?" He was suspicious, and rightfully so. Many of the things Kiera had told me about the Grey Warden order weren't exactly as glorious as the tales of old.

"So… you understand that sometimes we have to resort to—ah—not so popular methods in order to—" I wasn't quite sure how to put it… I wasn't exactly a representative of the 'let's-be-maleficars' collective.

Kiera rolled her eyes, and continued for me. "How do you feel about blood magic?"

"What?" Not surprisingly, the ex-templar was scandalized. "Wait… is this like that question about mages in the Tower?" He appeared to be thinking; apparently Kiera had already shared her views about the Ferelden treatment of mages.

"Well… yes, and no." She reddened delicately, looking away whilst she bit her lip, thinking hard. Jowan and I had never mentioned to her about how that one sideways look could rend hearts from men she hadn't even spoken to—and Alistair was watching her anxiously, knowing full well that he had been snared.

xOxOx

Kiera

Frankly, I was quite worried about Alistair's response—he was a chantry boy after all, and honestly, I didn't know why I cared so much about what _he_ thought. Maybe it was because he was the first Grey Warden around my age (other than Daylen, of course) that I had met, but I was actually quite nervous as to how he would react to this.

"So… how is this about blood magic?" Alistair's voice was low, cutting into my thoughts. My nerve was wavering, and I noticed that Daylen was giving me a strange look, before replying on my behalf.

"Yes—we—"

"So that's what you people were surreptitiously talking to Jowan about!" Alistair paused and I looked up at him, noticing that his jaw was clenched; and even at a moment like this, I felt part of my mind thinking idly. _He looks so manly when he's hot and bothered_. I shook my head free of such nonsense, figuring that it wasn't going to be quite so attractive if that was directed towards me.

Daylen snorted. "Jowan's… not the best person to ask, especially that—we have—" I panicked, and jabbed an elbow into his side, and his words cut off with a grimace. If Alistair was going to find out about this, it would better for _me_ to tell him. "I… I am also a blood mage." I couldn't look at him, and hung my head. He was silent for a very long time.

Alistair

I couldn't speak, and I was also very certain that none of us would be sleeping at all for the rest of the night. She—a maleficar. I… really didn't know what to think. What to say. She sure didn't look like one, not evilly like Morrigan, nor the half-crazed ones at the Tower. I had a lot more questions to ask, but seeing her, looking so—innocent and lovely—kept me tongue-tied, for fear of offending her.

Daylen, on the other hand, was very willing to talk—and was defending her again, even if he didn't really need to, in my own opinion. "I know she'll only use blood magic on darkspawn, and since it's mostly a weapon for Grey Warden matters, Alistair, you shouldn't—"

"Actually… I did use blood magic on a human, just the once." Kiera murmured, cutting Daylen off. Her voice seemed so very light, and yet sounded utterly miserable.

They shared a long look, and I saw a growing realization on Daylen's face.

I couldn't help it anymore, and blurted "Now what was that? Are you going to tell me what _that _look was about? Who did you use blood magic on—exactly? Isolde? Connor? Oh Maker—Teagan?" I hated the sound of my accusatory voice—I sounded like a demanding child.

"You. I used blood magic on you." Kiera gazed directly into my eyes. "Back at the Tower—Uldred—I saw you get hit. I heard a fatal, bone-crunching sound—and then you weren't breathing, you didn't have a pulse—I… I didn't know what else to do, so I… slit my palm… and—" The expression in her eyes turned to one of a pleading desperation, I could see her genuine sincerity—her emotions in that one moment—filled her lovely eyes.

"Please don't… hate me." She whispered. Oh Maker— what have I done? She was miserable because of me.

Kiera

And so I burst into tears, in front of an alarmed Daylen, and a severely confused Alistair. I never used to cry, not in front of anyone—at least not genuine tears. It was… horrifying to say the least, and I always thought that I was strong, but Alistair—Andraste's blood—Daylen— Alistair, the both of them, seemed to make up my weak point. I got off the bed without another word, and wiped my face hastily. I needed to get away from the both of them.

Daylen

Kiera left as fast as she could—she never was one for expressing her feelings. I saw Alistair's face fall as she practically ran out of the room; he was concerned, not appalled at her confession. He was also hopelessly enthralled at the sight of her flashing bare legs.

To be honest, I was rather surprised that Kiera would even break down in front of Alistair—perhaps the attraction he no doubt felt was mutual. How… delightful. All he seemed to need was a nudge in the right direction.

"Hey Alistair." The man turned to face me, still looking shell-shocked. Well it was all or nothing. "Kiera and I are close, but just as siblings. We'd never be… lovers." Predictably, he blushed, a deep crimson red—even by the light of the fire.

"Was… I that… obvious?" He said sheepishly, touching his hair absently as he stood up from the bed.

"Well she might not have noticed, but that's because she…" Then, a thought struck me. "Has she ever given you anything?" If she did, well… that was her… sign.

"What? Um… yes, she gave me a gold figurine when we were at the Tower." He mumbled. I laughed from pure relief.

"Then she likes you. She might not realize it, but she does." That was true, as far as I could tell. She only gave things to people she liked—almost thoughtlessly, but these were always the perfect gifts. I remember that she had once made a giant snowflake—at least that's what she called it, and left it on the floor of the hall, since none of the apprentices could go outside to feel the snow. It was ingenious, for Greagoir and several other templars were amazed at its sheer size, as well as its beauty, that the three of us snuck out of the main doors—and were catching real ones on our tongues before being hauled back into the Tower.

As I was musing over the past, Alistair looked considerably less apprehensive. One final push then.

"Go for it—her, I mean. But, if you end up breaking her heart—I promise you that… I'll… think of a nasty and painful way for you to regret your decision." He blinked. Well, I admit, I wasn't very good at threatening people.

"Yeah—I understand. I won't, big brother." He grinned as he closed the door.

OxOxO

_P.S.: My next few days/ weeks are going to be really busy—so I won't be able to update as quickly. Exams. Pfft. Thanks for reading, and please review! :D_


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9: Warning- Matchmaking ahead  
><em>

_A/N: This chapter is a bit short- I might decide to merge it with the one that I'm still writing_ :)

Kiera

It was dawn. Finally. I sat at the main doors, waiting for the rest. Only Loki, the mabari was there—being awfully chipper, bouncing joyously as he caught the small pieces of bacon I tossed (having burned them with little flames from my fingers). "Such an adorable grin you have—a lovely doggy grin," I mumbled. "Just like Alistair—don't you think?" I smiled, scratching Loki's furry head.

"I agree with that. Our chantry boy does have his puppy moments at times. Very adorable." I jerked around to find Leliana coming down the stairs, all dressed in armor and sheathed blades—ready to leave. Watching her wan complexion, Alistair's words from last night struck me—Leliana…probably liked Daylen? I decided to test out this theory.

"Leliana?"

"Yes?" She had also started feeding Loki with scraps from the fully stocked packs the servants had put together for us. We were spoiling him silly.

"Daylen and I… we're kind of like brother and sister—" I broke off deliberately.

"So… not together?" I noticed that she had stopped petting the lolling mabari.

"Not—what you and Alistair think anyway…"

"Ah."Her response was purposefully ambiguous, but her cast down eyes told a whole different story—she was secretly overjoyed.

"So… feel free to go after him." There, I hope that was direct enough.

"….I'm sorry… What?" Hmm I should try and phrase it differently.

Um… what I mean, is that Daylen might be a bit dense at times, but I can tell that you'd make a cute couple!" For some reason, she wasn't acting like I thought she would; like say, jumping for joy.

"I'm afraid I… don't really know what you're talking about."

Darn. I could have sworn—"Oh… then I'm sorry—" I began, as she dissolved into giggles. Orlesian bards. They played the 'game' for a living.

"I guess I could try—he is very handsome." She was sobering slightly, though the mirth in her eyes remained.

"And charming. He had girls—even older mages—getting him gifts and numerous love letters."

"Ah." Her lilting voice faltered, and Leliana started to look pensive.

"But he never took those declarations of love—he made use of me all the time, claiming that we were already promised to each other. I think I got several death threats. They might have been from the same person though. Oh. By the way, you two will be taking the same watch from now on." I winked, and Leliana giggled again.

"How perfectly coincidental."

"I know! You'd think that there was some kind of conspiracy. Also—he'd never know what hit him." At this, we sank to the floor weakly, laughing hard. Poor Daylen.

Leliana

Kiera was all right—such a lively girl she was, practically shoving Daylen in my direction. She was also very direct—likes to make her point clear on the first try. I think our dear Alistair might have a chance with her after all. She handed me a pack of food—to which I found a bottle of brandy, tucked away under the dried fruits and bread. Ooh.

"Daylen's not very good with alcohol. Just saying." She grinned mischievously.

Kiera

Morrigan and Sten appeared to be coming down the stairs, and we eavesdropped on their conversation—hiding our giggles after we determined that she was asking if _he_ were interested in _her_. Was everyone in our party going to pair up this quickly?

"So are you going to continue staring at me as if I am covered in eels?" She teased the qunari.

"Eels would be something." He seemed almost discomfited.

"Prudery? How charming! I expected paranoia, but this is much better! I prefer to be stared at lustfully, if at all—"

"Keep trying then." Sten cut her off, eyes narrowing.

"Oh? Then shall I demonstrate an act or two, and you may tell me 'hot' or 'cold'?"

"I'll save time. Cold." His bluntness was a little intimidating, but Morrigan was not fazed—laughing.

"You are a tease!" Neither of us had ever imagine that Morrigan would be quite so… wanton and this willing to test the _kossith's _patience, but we were thoroughly entertained all the same.

The qunari was getting thoroughly annoyed, and seemed quite relieved to find respite in our presence, as we innocently began checking our pack's contents. Morrigan gave me one of her deadly glares as I hiccoughed suspiciously, so I slipped off, wandering the first floor and into what appeared to be an office. There were a lot of books on Orlais, were these Isolde's? Or the Arl's?

A while later, Daylen and Wynne came down the stairs, fussing over his hair. I stayed in the room—for fear of incurring old lady wrath before she could distract herself with furthering Daylen's toilette.

"Stop touching it! It's my hair, and I shall do whatever I like with it—"

"But you're a Grey Warden—you have to be presentable to the rest of Ferelden—"

"So what, that everyone will be awed by my carefully coiffed curls? Darkspawn will lay themselves at my feet for fear of my sublimely styled tresses? Honestly—"

"Just make it neater—here I have a brush—" Wynne was persistent, and Daylen's patience was wearing thin.

"Oh leave him alone, Wynne—I know what it's like to obsess over one's hair. He'll come around. Eventually." Alistair's voice startled me, and I hurriedly left the room and crept back into the hall, not realizing that I had something round clutched behind my back.

Daylen

"Well, are we all here?" I looked around, counting us off. Such a large group of travelers we were—at least we'd be far less likely to be targeted by bandits. I hefted a pack of supplies, passing a smaller one to Wynne. Alistair picked up his own. Most of it was dried fruit and nuts, but I noted the bread, cheese and bacon—these would save us from the mysterious goopy stew for a couple of meals.

xOxOx

We left with as little commotion as we could, a few knights saluted our exit from the courtyard and I felt better with each step in the brightening sunlight; it was looking to be a fine breezy day, a perfect day to march towards the capital— Denerim.

We met up with Bodahn and Sandal who were camped near the outskirts of Redcliffe village, away from the death that had pervaded every nook and cranny of the place. We rested around midday a break and I noticed that Alistair was keeping stead with Kiera's (who seemed awfully rigid today) unexplainable pacing, trying to accost her without creating too much fuss. Was he making his move now? I started distracting Wynne with a few choice questions on banal things like obscure spells that were taught only as theory; claiming that some of those might be useful to the Grey Wardens' cause—a skill I learnt while trying to help Kiera sneak into classes.

Alistair

"Hey, Kiera, look at this," I said, finally cornering her, brandishing a rose that I had picked in Lothering. "Do you know what this is?" I winced inwardly, of course she knew what it was – it was a flower—a rose. Ugh.

"Your new weapon of choice?" She replied with a smirk, idly stroking its velvet petals.

"Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! RAWR! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" I blurted, unable to help myself. "Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull in comparison." I finished lamely. I felt like such a fool.

"Sentiment can sometimes be a pretty powerful sentiment, Alistair." Kiera's smile faded, and I saw a sad look creep into her eyes.

"I picked in Lothering—I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."

"How… nice. What do you intend to do with it then?" She was no longer thinking about whatever it was that made her sad—and I knew just what I wanted to say to her.

"I thought that I might, give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you." I knew that it was going too fast, and wondered briefly if she would turn me down.

"Is this in return for that statue I gave you at the Tower?" She mused, taking the flower out of my barely-steady hands, "Oh wait. Do you think of me as a flower with thorns of its own? How… apt."

"Er no… I didn't mean—" I was bordering on frantic.

"I'll take it as a compliment then—thank you, Alistair" A lovely smile rewarded my clumsy efforts and the familiar impish gleam of amusement returned to her eyes. I began to breathe again.

Before I could say anything just as endearing back at her, we were interrupted by a strange woman who ran to us, claiming to have been attacked by bandits—and it was then that everyone in the party knew that something bad lay ahead.

OxOxO

_P.S.: I know I promised that the story'll move fast from now on. Er... I'll stick to that when I'm finally done with the next chapter. Heh. sorry. Meanwhile, please review! :)_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The start of a new…Friendship.

_A/N: Some in-game dialogue… poor Alistair. Don't hate me (T-T)_

Leliana

I heard Kiera and Alistair draw their blades, so Sten and I followed suit, and we shifted our positions to flank the mages as the woman ran on ahead. Did we appear to be that gullible? The lay of the land around us was perfect for an ambush, and none of us, save Wynne were shocked by the appearance of assassins. The men rose from the fallen bodies, and closed off the path from which we had come by felling a tree behind us—aiming their arrows at ourselves. It was, by all accounts a fine ambush, if perhaps losing out on the element of surprise—the leader of the troupe was one truly skilled in the arts, far beyond the rest. How curious that he was an elf.

The battle was over as Daylen, Morrigan made quick work of the bowmen, while Alistair and Sten went for the ones wielding melee weapons. I myself was occupied in redirecting the missiles that were flying straight at the mages, especially Daylen, who was casting with a most intense look on his face—an expression that quickened the blood in my veins.

Kiera had engaged the elf personally, and had managed to knock him out just as the final bowmen fell. She had picked up his weapons, and was examining the hilt of the dagger with great interest; enough that she had decided to wake the assassin up for a round of questioning.

"Mmm… What—I—oh." The elf had come around, gingerly touching his head. " I rather thought that I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see that you haven't killed me yet." He had a most interesting accent—Antivan?

Kiera just watched him coolly, before asking pointedly, "We have some questions."

"Ah! So I'm to be interrogated? Let me save you some time." The elf was quite animated at this point—most surprising. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, (that explains a lot) brought here for the purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

"Wow. He spouted all that rather quickly." Daylen was unimpressed, he was rightfully suspicious.

"Why not? I wasn't paid for my silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely." Zevran was quick to come back. He really was eager to spill everything—no?

"Hmm… Are you not loyal to your employers, then? How… refreshing." Kiera mused.

"Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and if you are done interrogating me, we can discuss it further." The elf still lay submissively prone on the ground.

"Oh? You would offer it to us?" Kiera had arched an eyebrow. Daylen was watching them with great interest.

"Well here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you do not kill me, the Crows will." Zevran said all of this without batting an eyelid. The Crows appeared to be just as vicious as someone I knew once. "The thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause, so let me serve you instead."

Kiera was still deep in thought, so Daylen asked the next question. "So… why should we let you… serve us—exactly?"

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting, to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated now that my own attempts have failed." Daylen looked unconvinced, and so the elf went on, plying his suit to Kiera. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed perhaps? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?"

To much shock from the rest, Kiera hid a smile as she considered his offer. "Bed-warming might be nice."

She earned a hard look from Daylen, and she answered simply, "What? Ferelden is very cold at night." I could tell she wasn't being serious, but Alistair's steadily darkening face made it clear that he wasn't comfortable with her light banter either.

"See, I knew that we would find a common interest. Or two. Or three. Really, I can go all night." Zevran waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"And yet, unfortunately, your words betray just how desperate you really are. You must think that we're utterly stupid." Kiera's words were bereft of emotion, a very strange thing.

"Not at all, my lady. I find you royally hard to kill, and utterly gorgeous. Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery, but there are worse things in life then serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess." Kiera blushed faintly at those words, and Alistair tightened his grip on his sword, even as he looked still more dejected. She did like to flirt— I saw, but she didn't appear to mean any of it.

"Hmm… How tempting. But I do not make the decisions in our motley crew—I'm afraid." Zevran's face fell, eyes darting to Daylen's.

"Oh so now you've had your fun, I get to clean up after?" Daylen muttered irritably. Alistair shifted uncomfortably—the banter had to be most unsettling for his own affections towards Kiera.

Daylen

"So what do you think? Should we keep him (at this I eyed the elf at our feet) around for your own entertainment?" Kiera was taking this too lightly—he had just tried to kill us, after all.

"I just think that he'll be useful to have around. I hate being ambushed." She shrugged nonchalantly.

"But what if he's the one doing the ambushing? Isn't that more likely to happen?" Alistair blurted. This was what he was really worried about. Heh.

"Then we kill him. But I say we give him a chance to prove himself—if he misuses that trust, I will slit his throat myself." Kiera's replied coolly.

"You're vouching for him? You barely know him!" I was annoyed at her.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"I still do not think that it is a good idea. We should just let him go—" I began.

"I said I'd keep an eye on him. Or would physically leashing him to me be more satisfactory? "She snapped. "Much like the adage, I'd rather keep my enemies closer."

That settled it—much to the chagrin of some; the elf was to join us. And since Kiera had vouched for him—she was to take upon herself the same watches, he was her responsibility.

xOxOx

Daylen

For the rest of the day we trudged in the direction of Denerim, silent and weary. We made camp near the Brecilian Forest, and Kiera suggested that we seek out the Dalish elves in the area when morning came—it was en route to Denerim too. Alistair agreed, murmuring muted words as he tried to avoid looking at Kiera. He sank into his bed roll wordlessly as Leliana and I took first watch. Kiera and her new friend were to take the dreaded second, along with Sten (we didn't trust to leave _him_ alone on with _her_ on the first night). Wynne and Alistair were to take the third.

Kiera had laid out her own bedroll, and had left with Leliana to wash up before bed. The former seemed oblivious to Alistair's unhappy state—as obvious as it was. I saw the elf lay his own things next to hers, and I stomped over, meaning to have a few choice words with him.

"Look, Kiera's vouched for you. I hope you appreciate that by not trying anything funny with her."

"Funny? You mean I should not amuse her?" Came the coy answer.

"Don't stab her in her sleep, or something. I'll be watching you." My hands were trembling as I itched to cast something nasty on that increasingly smug face.

"Do not worry, dear leader, a lovely savior such as she will be—how do you put it—cherished." I did not like the way he said that—but as Kiera was just coming back from the stream with Leliana, I scooted back without a word. I was still a little ticked off by Kiera's attitude from earlier that day, and did not want to start yet another quarrel over our newest party member.

xOxOx

Kiera

I sat up straight as I awoke, shaken (gently) awake by a smiling Leliana. Second watch had finally arrived. The elf—Zevran, I reminded myself—he had a name, was already awake, although still wiping the sleepiness from his long-lashed eyes. He really wasn't as bad as everyone thought, even though his earnestness at joining us might have been one of self-preservation. Sten was also already awake, calmly watching the pair of us over the flames of our campire.

My thoughts wandered as my eyes settled on Alistair's form, a figure hidden by blankets on the opposite side of the fire. All I could see of him was that sandy hair, and I wondered why he was so far away. I remembered the flower—the rose that he had given me, tucked safely away in my pack; its velvety crimson petals had seemed to hint at romantic inclinations, but I couldn't be sure. It might be just an innocent gesture—I told myself, and from past experience, I knew that I had a tendency to overthink matters of the heart.

"You are awfully quiet, my deadly sex goddess." Zevran appeared to be addressing me.

"Ah… Zev? Please don't call me that." It was embarrassing and awfully grating when I was trying to concentrate on someone else.

"But it is the truth—you did mention that bed-warming would be part of my duties—no?" I couldn't tell if he was being quite so… shameless on purpose.

"That was… a joke on my part. You don't have to. No need for flattery either… Just Kiera would do." He seemed to disapprove of that.

"Hmm… Can I call you _bella _instead? You are very… lovely." I couldn't help blushing like a child at such blatant… compliments. Still, it would not do.

"Kiera is fine. I insist."

"Of course." He fell silent, and I wondered if he was secretly sulking.

"I… May I ask some questions about Antiva?" Such conversations usually broke the ice, no?

"Why—do you want to go there one day?" The wicked gleam in his eyes was quite disconcerting.

"I want to travel the world when the Blight is over— I would have asked about the Qunari lands too—but some people just don't like sharing." This was a snide remark at Sten's aloofness, which frankly frustrated me whenever I tried to begin a conversation with him. He gave me a severe stare.

Zevran

"Antiva… is a land where the women are worshipped like goddesses, and would never be allowed to fight, as you are," I smiled, as my gaze lingered on the lovely woman facing me. Her hair was let down, and looked most ravishing. If only the stern _qunari_ were elsewhere, I would have attempted… a more direct approach with my risqué inclinations.

And so I regaled her with tales of Antiva City and of the Crows—she was so very interested in such. Her whole demeanor showed that she was listening most carefully, wholeheartedly even—but I got the feeling that tragic circumstances lay too, beyond those lovely eyes. She had a tattoo, I noticed, as creamy white skin was exposed when the collar of her tunic shifted. I suddenly didn't want to describe Antiva anymore, and ventured to guess what that was that was.

"A flower—perhaps?" The bella—Kiera, as she requested I call her—was quizzical, and although she remained silent, her delicate features said it all.

"The tattoo—on your upper back—is that a flower? I repeated.

At length, those perfect lips parted, and gave me my answer—"Oh. It's a griffin actually, you know, the herald of the Grey Wardens."

"I wasn't aware that all Grey Wardens had to display their devotion to the order in such—permanent ways." To my immense delight, she laughed—a girlish sound without coy pretense, and I knew that she was far younger than I initially thought.

"I did it when I first went to the Grey Wardens in Orlais. It's a symbol, of the protection the order extended over me—a wanted apostate."

The words 'wanted apostate' made me recall something —"Were you ever—by any chance… once hunted by the Antivan Crows?"

Kiera's looked away, and when she spoke, her voice was somber. "Yes. There was once a price on my head—one of my encounters with these assassins appeared to be the Crows. Were… they friends of yours?"

"Nope, they aren't—we were rivals. You are very skilled then, to have evaded their pursuing blades. Dizion—the Crow who had taken that job was very good at… achieving his goals."

"I… had help. Actually, I should thank the Crows—that attack made it easier for me to plead my own case to the Grey Wardens, and they made me a full-fledged member almost on the spot."

"Oh, so it was a display of your ability that made you more… suitable for joining the Grey Wardens?"

"…In a sense." She looked away, conflicted. Seeing her growing distress, I knew it would be impolite to continue the discussion. Perhaps a diversion was necessary. I decided that I would pose some questions to the _qunari_, if only to distract Kiera from whatever it was that was affecting her so.

"'Sten', it's not a name, is it?"

"Do you always begin conversations this way?" The _qunari_ turned his stony gaze upon me.

"It's your rank is it not? I've met a few Qunari in Antiva you know. Not much for conversation but some of them were quite easy on the eyes." Kiera looked up curiously at the two of us, she was quite easy to read, at times.

"Those are not Qunari."

"No? They are what then, very large dwarves with comical accents?" Kiera hiccoughed, but pretended that nothing happened.

"They wear the faces of Qunari but they are Tal'vashoth, fiends of Saharon. They have abandoned the Qun."

"With titles like your own though, which makes me curious. What is your real name then?" I persisted—it was an interesting diversion from the usual stoic silence.

" 'Sten' is enough." Such a one-track mind. Maybe it is something quite embarrassing? Maybe the equivalent of 'Miriam'?

"But it is not your name." I mused.

"It is who I am." And it appeared that the conversation was over.

I turned back to Kiera, only to find her hard at work, quietly sketching into a book spread upon her knees. She appeared to be working on a picture of our tall and silent friend, and I must admit that it was a remarkable likeness. As she worked, she asked Sten a single question.

"Sten, is there _anything_ you like about Ferelden?" Neither of us was quite expecting the answer coming so readily.

"There is… Interesting food here. You have a thing… it doesn't have a word in the _qunari_ tongue. Little baked things, like bread, but sweet and… crumbly."

"Cookies?" Both of us quipped—caught off guard. So the giant liked sweets? It was good to know.

"Yes. We have no such thing in our lands. This should be remedied." He finished firmly.

"I like them too, 'specially if they contain little nuts… Hmm guess I'll keep an eye out for recipes the next time we're near a large village or town? Perhaps you could bring them back to your people." Kiera's eyes twinkled as she addressed him.

"…Perhaps." It appeared that he too, was surprised at her reply.

xOxOx

P.S.: So… er… I hope you liked it! Please review! :D


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11: Some Brecilian Grey-Wardening_

_A/N: Party members are getting awfully awkward and complicated. Bear with me! As always, thank you for reading and please continue to review! Will welcome suggestions xD_

Wynne

Kiera woke me when it was time for third watch—and I was surprised that she would relinquish the chance to wake Alistair—was she bored of his affections already? How typical. She and the elf went directly for their bedrolls and _she_ fell promptly asleep, whereas I saw the assassin watch her sleeping form for a long while before he too closed his eyes. Alistair had seemed disappointed when I shook him awake, and he casted his gaze around the campfire, alighting on the pair of them.

He appeared to be having trouble in keeping his mind off the sleeping pair, so I offered to mend his clothes, chatting blithely of how unkempt he was the whole time.

"These rips—how do you manage to keep wearing such awful shirts every single day?"

"Huh? Oh—well, it had been just Daylen, me and Morrigan for awhile, and Lothering had no such luxuries—nor did we have the money to pay for most of the things we really needed. Like armor. And cheese."

"Anything else you need mending? Honestly this _thing_ is more holes than shirt. We'll have to get you new ones in Denerim."

"Hmm… I don't know—I was hoping the rags and tears would spark off a new fashion trend. You mean they don't look rather… fetching on me?" By the Maker, he was actually grinning at me, although the tightness surrounding his eyes spoke volumes of how unhappy he still was.

"Alistair… Sometimes people don't change. You don't have to keep hoping, you know."

"What?" He murmured as he came and sat next to me by the campfire.

"Kiera—she was a fine student at the Tower, but the apprentices have been known for their… promiscuity. She—"

"No. I won't discuss this." He turned away from me, poking at the fire with a stick.

"Why not? Kiera practically _flew_ from the Tower the first chance she got. The First Enchanter was very disappointed—her two best friends had taken a leaf from her book and did the very same thing! Do you not see that her influence appears to be sinister in nature, corrupting—"

"Enough. My decisions are my own." Yet another longing glance at her. I rolled my eyes.

"Fine. Just don't make me have to say 'I told you so'."I had finished with the shirt, and folded them into a neat pile, handing them to Alistair.

xOxOx

Kiera

Dawn broke, and I got to my feet, unsteadily. Second watches were tough—and I supposed I deserved it, although I still stand by my initial decision to keep Zevran around for he was an experienced hand—and would not slow us down one whit. Daylen was still glowering at me—for some strange reason he still disapproved of the newest addition to our party. Sure, Zev was a little scandalous in his speech and was a little too exasperating at times—but he was funny. We needed more than a little funny in our merry band of Blight-enders.

We had Loki to try and track down the Dalish camp for us; no one knew quite where to start searching —even as we were led a long trek through the Brecilian Forest. We found the Dalish (or rather they found us) around midday, although luckily for us, we had the presence of mind to not travel in a huge group of people. Both Zev and Leliana split up from the main group and took paths that paralleled Daylen's. Sten and I followed in their wake, as silent as we could. As such, we were prepared when the elves finally took pity on us and decided to stop us from wandering the forest aimlessly.

"Halt. You will not proceed in our forests any longer; we have our arrows trained upon you. State your business with the Dalish and leave immediately."

"Oh, you mean the Dalish camp is nearby? Funny, you'd think there'd be a sign somewhere—no?" Daylen commented dryly.

"We do not make _signs_ to serve the likes of _you_. What is your business here?"

"We humbly request an audience to speak with your Keeper." Zev smiled as he walked forward, having had his dagger pressed against another elf's throat, and Leliana emerged from the bushes with yet another scout—sans bow. Sten and I had slipped behind the leader, and I cleared my throat gently. She spun around fast, and if Sten had not stopped that lightning-quick blade by grabbing onto her shoulders, I would have been missing an ear. Or worse. The Dalish were certainly very nimble, and hostile.

Daylen

"What is it that you want from our Keeper?" The leader of the scouting band spat.

"We just want to speak to him. We come in peace, although the times are not so." Kiera said quietly. "Please unhand the nice Dalish elves." The three of them did so. Sometimes I wondered why Kiera commanded such a… following amongst people she had just met. Perhaps she should be leader instead. The Dalish led us back to their camp and to their… Keeper, as that _assassin_ called him.

The elves appeared to have problems of their own; the whole camp was wary at our approach and most referred to us as _shemlen_ as they moved away from our party. Zathrian, the Keeper then denied us the help we needed for the Blight on account that the elves were still struggling with werewolf raids. Needless to say, we volunteered ourselves for the task of stopping the said werewolves, and were soon merrily on our way, in a larger, more ominous part of the forest. Kiera had taken to walking in stride with that Zevran, and I wondered if Alistair was ever going to put his foot down and demand that it be stopped. I know I would.

"You know, I'm more a city elf, myself." Zevran commented, to no one in particular.

"Yes yes, we all got that. Your mother was a Dalish elf who ran off with a woodcutter, and so you feel no connection to the way the Dalish live." I didn't care if I sounded rude, I wanted to make Kiera see the light of things—that he was such a self-centred…person.

"Well… a forest like this seems so very… filthy." He finished calmly, and for a while, we had absolute silence. Kiera moved away from him, and kept giving me her 'we-need-to-have-a-word' looks, but frankly, I didn't want to speak to her while I still felt this… aggravated.

"So let me ask you something. What are your intentions with her?" I turned to stare at Alistair— curious— as most of our party was. Kiera appeared to not have heard, or was pretending not to hear.

"You speak of her as if she is not present. She is just right over there, you know..." Zevran nodded in Kiera direction, where she was, with Sten—picking up some bluish ironbark for the Dalish smith.

"Don't dodge the question. I'm serious." I wondered if there would be a right scuffle ensuing from this dangerous dialogue the two were engaged in.

"Mmm… Do I detect a bit of jealousy there? Feeling territorial, are we?" I had to stop myself from snorting aloud. Why else would Alistair ask?

"I am just asking what your intentions are. You did try to kill us all, remember?"

"And now I owe her a blood debt, as she has spared my life. It has brought us... closer together." Ugh. If I were Alistair I would smite Zevran for good measure, if only to stop the smug smile from spreading across him face.

"Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?"

"I assure you, ser, that I am not smirking. No smirking here, no." And yet he still had that look. Grr.

"Well, just... watch yourself, then. I'll be keeping an eye on you." That went for me too. I wanted to see how long the elf would take in showing his true colours to Kiera.

xOxOx

Leliana

So Kiera did her best to remain as far away from the three increasingly hostile men in our party— I honestly think that the negativity was rolling off them in waves could drown a sea of pining Orlesian lovers. The strange aggressive trees and nasty werewolves did nothing to ease the tension—Kiera had started walking next to Sten, much to Morrigan's distaste. Kiera really had no idea how to stay away from men at times like these—which appeared to give cause for Wynne's continued disapproval of her apparent _allure_.

Soon, we found the lifeless body of a Dalish hunter, one of those who had left and not yet returned. Sten lifted the hunter like he weighed nothing, and moved to carry him back to the village. Kiera volunteered to go along, looking most relieved for the task, as the swamp witch tried to keep her face from contorting in annoyance. Getting a little jealous, aren't we?

"How are you going to find your way back to us?" Alistair could tell that she was feeling uncomfortable—even as Daylen still had that fierce stubborn look in his eyes.

"By some righteous Grey Wardening." Kiera smiled and winked, albeit a little hesitantly.

"What? Oh. OH." Alistair nodded knowingly, but Daylen still remained confused.

"I don't get it."

"Grey Wardens can sense…" Alistair began patiently.

"Darkspawn. And… OH. I SEE." Whatever that meant—Daylen appeared to be enlightened.

"We'll be back soon. Find your way through the forest, and I'll track you all from the Camp."

"Wait. Just two people? Take one more party member with you." Alistair appeared hopeful, as did Zevran. Both of them were being painfully obvious, even as Sten rolled his eyes.

Kiera surveyed everyone silently. She then promptly picked the mabari.

OxOxO

_P.S.: Short chapter again—heh will upload the next one soon, I hope xD_


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12: Nosy by nature and all that_

_A/N: Er… I wonder about how confused everyone is with the romancing— but I'll do my best with the characters! And plot. Mustn't forget plot. xD Please continue to support and review; you guys are awesome!_

Sten

We left for the Elvish encampment with the indisposed elven hunter. These people appeared to be mentally weak—no doubt cowed by the casualties sustained in the last ambush by the creatures they spoke of—werewolves. In Seheron these would be overrun by the Qun in mere _hours_, given the self-pity in which they wallow.

"Sten." The Orlesian mage wanted to talk. How surprising.

"What is it?"

"Were you ever near… Lake Calenhad?"

"Yes… My brethren and I were ambushed by darkspawn in that region. They fell, and I was the only one found alive by some Fereldan farmers."

"Oh." She fell silent at length, and we walked on in silence, but not for long. "Hmm…"

"What is it?" These people clearly enjoyed making me repeat my words.

"Ah… It's…" Her eyes flicked briefly to mine.

"If you have something to say, then say it."

"I did come upon some darkspawn rising out of a cave near Lake Calenhad, and I killed them."

"You? But _it_ was more than a month ago." I had spent more than twenty days in that cage in Lothering.

"Yes. I started about two weeks ago from the far west of Ferelden, and moved my way southeast towards Ostagar, and came upon Lake Calenhad and the small army of darkspawn. All too late. I only understood when I came upon the large bones, as well as having found what appeared to be _qunari_ weapons among the darkspawn corpses."

"Hmm." I considered this. She had no reason to lie. But the fact remained that she was female, or claimed to be. She simply could not have fought the darkspawn and won, where _we_ had failed.

"I did the best that I could for your fallen brethren… burying what was left of them. I am sorry."

"It was not your fault. We were… caught offguard."

We had reached the camp, and left the elf in the hands of his people. We continued back into the forest, following the trail that would lead us back to the others.

"And… yet you still look so… upset." How perceptive of her. I had no idea it was obvious.

"I am… grieving for the loss of my blade. It was… made for my own two hands."

"Ah. I heard you talking to Loki that night—Asala, was it—the name of your blade?

"…You were listening in?" It was a little disconcerting.

"Force of habit. Being a woman and all. Nosy by nature. I'm sure you've heard."

"…That I agree with."

"Hey." The mage laughed. "But still—"

"Do not concern yourself." Pashaara. I would have greatly preferred the company of the hound. It, at least, was silent.

"We could stop in the area on the way back to Redcliffe. You know, just in case it is still there?"

"That would be unlikely." After more than a month—it would be gone.

"But still—'trying' never hurt anyone."

"Except when you fail. Badly." I paused. "But yes, I know what you mean. I appreciate your concern."

"I mean it. We'll look for it."

"The Blight is of priority."

"And I'm sure the archdemon can stand to wait a few more days while we search for your blade."

"…Perhaps." It was an argument in which that I foresaw no victory.

xOxOx

Leliana

When Kiera left with Loki and Sten, all three men fell silent—before Alistair and Zevran burst into unabashed laughter.

"She would rather pick a mongrel. We _are_ scaring her off." Zevran mused, shaking his head.

"Loki's a fine mabari hound— but yes, I suppose I agree with that. _She's_ distancing herself from our ridiculous nonsense." Alistair nodded. It was all so bizarre—this sudden camaraderie.

Daylen only surveyed the two, before remarking quietly "So what? Suddenly you two are willing to _share_?" He frowned meaningly at them, before spinning on his heel and stalking away, deeper into the forest. We followed his angry movements, before finding ourselves attacked by still more possessed trees, although the three mages we had along made short work of these with well-aimed fireballs.

Alistair and Zevran still kept a wary distance from the other, understanding Daylen perfectly. Poor Kiera. She was going to have to choose one soon, and break the other's heart.

"All's fair in love and war, Alistair. No hard feelings, yes?" Zevran called out to the warrior as he followed Daylen's lead.

"It's not up to us." Came the curt reply.

xOxOx

Daylen

Kiera and Sten caught up to us as we entered a deeper part of the forest, but I could tell that some of the ice that was between the two had melted; privately I wondered if Kiera had made yet another suitor out of the tall, silent, and deadly _qunari_. Her ability to collect men was getting on my nerves.

"Hey Daylen. Could we like, stop by Lake Calenhad before we go back to Redcliffe?"

"I suppose. Why?"

"There's something in the region that I want to look for."

"Which is?"

"My sword, Asala." I jumped, not expecting the qunari to speak.

"Ah… Okay. Lake Calenhad is on the way."

She slipped closer to Leliana, who whispered something to her—and I spied that Kiera's face was now a little paler than before. The latter fidgeted a little restlessly as we answered (and asked) the strange hermit's questions, preferring to stand off to a side with Loki while we bargained with the old man. It was then Loki decided to stick its head into the stump where the hermit kept his things, sparking him to attack us with a wild cry. Sometimes I wonder if the dog was really too smart for his own good.

xOxOx

Daylen

"So um… a Talking Tree, you say?" Kiera was amused, as we trudged back to the spot where we found the Oak.

"It doesn't talk. It rhymes." I replied as I looked at the huge acorn she carried. It seemed quite… odd for a tree to be so attached to its… seed. Ugh. Even thinking about the way the Tree kept referring to _it_ gave me the chills.

"Riiight. Rhyming is sooo different. So it'll give us a branch that will guide us through the forest if we return this thing?" She waved the giant acorn around, tossing it to Leliana who then giggled and chucked it at Alistair. He in turn was going to pass it to Sten, but seeing the severe expression in those violet eyes, caught the acorn before it left his hands, and handed soberly it to me. Wynne was even smiling a little at that—whereas Morrigan and Zevran appeared uninterested.

"Yeah, I think so." I looked at it, and was glad that I had my gloves on—up close, it looked… well… a tad unsavoury.

We returned to that same tree, and got the magic branch—before finding that spot in the woods that had previously led us astray. Night fell before we could even proceed deeper into that mist, and I admitted it—I hated tramping around in the forest, but I hated making camp in the forest even more.

xOxOx

Leliana

Dusk came on quickly when you're surrounded by tall trees, and we made camp by the gently trickling stream—avoiding that 'perfect spot' we had found previously. Kiera had abruptly set fire to the thing, bedrolls and all— unheeding Daylen's protests – we heard an inhuman howl erupt from the blaze. Through the flames, we discerned figures of whatever it was that had tried to tempt us—dying amidst the trap that it had set. She gave no explanation for her actions, merely shaking her head as she led us away to another spot to camp for the night. Sometimes I wished that she would talk more; accounting for her actions, before certain people had the opportunity to jump in and accuse her of callousness or something worse.

Kiera made dinner, and handed it out with a little help from Wynne (frankly, I'm surprised that she would render her assistance to the young mage) — a stew that wasn't too sticky or quite so grey, made with some herbs and some kind of barley. It was quite savoury—much better than any Fereldan cooking that I had tasted since my arrival here. Alistair had contrived to sit next to her, and as I had taken her other side, Zevran had no choice but to sit away from them, and he ate in silence. Meanwhile, I eavesdropped on her conversation with Alistair while serving everyone seconds. And thirds. They were quite hungry.

"So… You can cook. If only we'd met sooner—we wouldn't have messed up quite so many birds or rabbits. I think I can still taste the singed flesh. Ugh."

Kiera chuckled, the firelight glinting off her smiling eyes. "Well I'm glad I didn't meet you people then—it sounds like a perfectly dreadful existence, to be surviving on charcoal."

Alistair took a mouthful of the stew and added. "Not to mention that we would have had a most beautiful chef. Mmm. This is really good. We don't even need cheese in this."

Kiera choked on her food, and gasped up at Alistair, who eyed her curiously. "You… think I'm beautiful?"

"You know you are. You're ravishing, resourceful and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying. Of course, you do have a little piece of something on the side of your mouth—but that is pretty suggestive as well…" Her continued silence and wide-eyed expression made his words trail off. "Did I say something wrong? It's a compliment, you know."

Kiera wiped the offending particle from her face and set the bowl on the grass, still very quiet. "Alistair, I—" She seemed unable to continue her sentence. It was then the both of them realised that the entire party (save Daylen) had fallen silent, hushed by the awkward conversation the two engaged in. "What's going on?" Daylen wondered aloud. Kiera blushed and got up, motioning for him to follow her— and I was quite peeved at how I wouldn't be able to hear the rest of it. Spoilsport.

OxOxO

_P.S.: I'm sorry! Have to keep y'all in suspense a little while longer xD (grr doesn't the thing seem longer when typed as a word document? Stupid misleading margins.)  
><em>


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13: A Night of… Lecherous Designs?_

_A/N: Erm… This camp scene is taking forever. I apologise. Please continue to support and review—yes? :D_

Alistair

I could feel my heart thumping as we walked out of earshot of the whole camp, I knew what was coming—and it wasn't good. This explained Kiera's apparent feelings towards that assassin—his smugness and his flowery tongue had won her over where I could not. And I thought of the flower—that disastrous rose. I wanted to run away from all of this, from the way she looked— even in the shade her eyes twinkled distractingly—all of it that made it more impossible for me to stay here as she wanted to… talk about 'us'.

I wanted to get it as quick and painless as possible. "Kiera, I think I know where this is going. I want to say I respect your decision and I will now step—"

"Alistair, um there's something you need to know about me before anything else happens."

"Wha—?"

"It's important. I can't lead you on if you don't know—especially because of your bloodline—" Kiera bit her lip as she looked away.

"…What about it?" My own head was throbbing. Did she mind the fact that I was related to royalty?

"It's just that… My own past—might come into conflict with your own. In short, this probably isn't going to work out in the long term. Not that I should even presume that we'll last that long—but I—" She had hung her head and was almost whispering. "I realize that I have come to care for you. A lot. More than I should. And it is unforgivable that—"

"Shh." I tilted her face upwards to mine, and although there were no tears in those beautiful eyes—I felt my breath take leave of my lungs, and I could barely choke out any words. "I… Say it slowly. Clearly. Take a deep breath, it'll help." I couldn't believe myself, _speaking_ at a moment like that instead of—I saw the now-familiar amusement slide in within those pupils, and she pulled away gently, smiling.

Kiera had walked into the circle of moonlight that had somehow found its way through the canopy of leaves overhead, and she gazed up into the small patch of sky that was encircled by the same leaves. The wind blew through the forest, and swept up wisps of her white-gold hair, and she held one hand to her throat—before seeming to find the words to say.

"Do you remember that first night? That night when we took the same watch? I mentioned something of my past to you, if you'll recall?" Strain surfaced in her voice, and the stiffness in her posture let slip her growing apprehension.

"Yes, you said that you were 'supposedly' from Orlais." I was listening hard, desperate that I'd get another try at that one moment, and hoping that she'd relax enough to let me.

"There's more to that, actually. I—I'm more than just an apostate who happened to join the Orlesian Grey Wardens. I—" Kiera broke off—and seemed to berate herself in her own mind. "There is a reason why I've been on the run since my Circle days. Why I learnt blood magic. Why I left Orlais and came to Ferelden during the _freaking_ Blight. Everything in my past is unsightly, and you need to—" She was waving her hands while she spoke, and I grabbed both of them as I began, cutting her off mid-rant.

"Stop. What's past is past. What lies ahead—that's all the matters, doesn't it? Nothing in your past could possibly even deter me from my… feelings for you. Let go of your past and give it a chance—give _us_ a chance." I wasn't really thinking, by this point. I saw confusion, and slowly, understanding creep into her mind as I continued.

"Bloodline or not, I won't be considered for the throne—if anyone, it will be Arl Eamon who will rule Ferelden… I will still just be 'Alistair'." I paused, swallowing before continuing. "Hopefully, 'just' _your_ Alistair." I saw her blink at that, and wondered if I was too forward. Just '_your'_ Alistair? Andraste's blood, she was going to laugh at me _again_.

But Kiera was still thoughtful. "I'd… like that. Yet the fact remains that you barely know me—" I decided to just go for it—there and then, and I took a step closer to her, one hand on her cheek, leaning down and closing my eyes—before snapping them open as the giggles combined with suspicious rustling from the nearby bushes disturbed us. Kiera merely sighed, and opened a palm, firing a small bolt at the offending area, eliciting a yell as Leliana and Daylen fell out of the thick plants, him clutching a hand to his left shoulder.

Kiera

"Ow! That hurt! You could have just yelled at us!" Leliana was still giggling herself silly. Maker, these two would be the death of me. And Alistair, by the looks of him— was acutely embarrassed. Ugh why did he have to be so adorable?

"I use excessive force with everything. And you two ruined a perfectly good moment." I tenderly pulled out of Alistair's grasp, still feeling the warmth that his touch had left on my hands. He was looking particularly sheepish, and so I gave him a wink that brightened the expression on his face immediately. I liked him very much, even if the events that surround my past were quite so… damaging for his future as Ferelden's liege.

We walked back into camp with Leliana and Daylen trailing behind us; earning looks from everyone but Sten, who was staring off into the distance, seemingly alert to the forest that surrounded us. Alistair hurriedly scooted into his tent, apparently mortified by the unending sounds of mirth that Daylen and Leliana were making behind us.

"The forest certainly is quiet around these parts." I commented.

Sten barely turned. "Too quiet."

"Yes. A Grey Warden for each watch would suffice. Yes?"

"Perhaps. Hmph."

"What? That sounded mildly…disdainful."

"My people have heard tales of the Grey Wardens. So far I have met three. I'm not impressed."

Daylen had overheard this and said hotly, "We're not here to impress you."

"Well it remains to be seen what exactly you're here for." Sten muttered, and walked away.

"He's always so… antagonistic." Daylen murmured under his breath. "Oh. Kiera. Erm… You're taking first watch. I'll take the second."

"Okay. Wynne and Zevran with me, then."

"Wynne? That's… unusual."

"What—I can't have a little _variety_ in my life? Let's see if I can tempt her too."

"What?" Daylen was shocked, and a moment passed before we laughed outright—hard.

"Well _someone_ has to stop her from making disparaging remarks about _me_. I figured I should do it." Daylen only nodded, and I continued. "So… Alistair will be taking second watch with Sten, and you're with Leliana for the third."

"Wait. Why am I with Leliana again? Can't I have a little variety?" He joked, giving me a look.

"Hmm? You want Sten?"

He thought about it. "Good point. I'll tell them."

xOxOx

Zevran

The flames flickered, crackling softly as we sat around the campfire, not saying a word—not even a wistful sigh—at all. Kiera had started with her writing again frowning, every once in a while, running a hand distractedly through the soft waves of her golden hair. She really was so— _affascinante_—fascinating. I would hate to lose her to that Chantry boy; oh the things I would do with her delicate slender fingers, that _liscia_, _cremosa_ skin and those gently parted lips… My thoughts were getting to be… quite… Ooh. Licentious. Unfortunately, these were interrupted by a loud clearing of someone's throat—the older mage had a really piercing stare. Kiera did not appear to have heard, she was so focused on her little leather book.

"Yes, my lovely Wynne, I was fantasizing. But not anymore— no matter. Is there something you wanted? You now have my undivided attentions."

"What thoughts were you thinking as you stared at her so intently? Lecherous designs, perhaps?"

"And what if they were? Ah. Would you rather that _you_ were the object of my… lecherous designs? Yes, I can work with that… You have a very nice bosom." Kiera had put down her pen, and was watching our banter with growing mirth.

"Maker—Zevran I am old enough to be your grandmother."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"And what would you do with me if you had me, hmm? This is a game you play, nothing more."

"Ha, you are cynical woman, Wynne." I pouted, if only for Kiera's benefit. "Cynical and powerful. It drives me mad with desire.

Kiera was close to tears with her suppressed laughter. "Please… refrain from mortifying Wynne's sensibilities, Zev."

"Shall I mortify yours instead, Kiera— my _bella_? Kiera only shook her head, hand covering that lovely smile. Wynne snorted, muttering something along the lines of 'incorrigible temptress'. I have to admit I saw red at that.

"Do not speak of someone as if you think you know everything about that person. You obviously don't, that much—your ignorance, is as plain as—"

"Zevran." Kiera's voice developed a warning edge. I stopped before I could let loose the insults that were building in my head. Shrew.

"And he listens to you. Just how potent are your artful charms?" The woman was really too much.

"Oh no. My seduction by her is entirely my own fault. Such delicious beauty, unlike any other woman I've met—"

"I do not understand the attraction. Men fall head over heels for her every day. Why is this?" Wynne broke in.

I opened my mouth to answer, only to be cut off by Kiera. Her face was calm, even as her hands trembled. "Wynne. Do you really want to know why I escaped the Tower? I could tell you. I even have proof."

"No. You're not explaining your way out of this—"

"And I don't care whether you choose to believe it." She took a deep breath. "I ran—because I was… I know… blood magic."

"I knew it—you get into men's hearts and minds with its usage—"

"You shameless—maleficar—you whore." These words stung Kiera, I could see that the venomous words cut her deeply; she flinched with every sound. And yet—she was calmly waiting for Wynne to finish.

"If you would… let me continue?" Her voice was mild. Such control. I knew some Antivan fishwives who would have started a bloodbath at the slightest hint of an insult. "My phylactery was a fake. I found out the day before my own Harrowing, when we were coming back from a shopping trip to RedCliffe. This information told me to run. Away from the Circle—you would all be implicated if I had remained in Irving's custody. Orlais had sent missives to him, and said that they were coming—and you might have faced the Right of Annulment—"

"Why?" Wynne was suspicious. I continued the account, seeing that Kiera was finding it hard to finish.

"I know why. In that same year there was a certain someone's ascension to the Imperial throne. In that same year also—The Holy Divine also saw a new… person in charge. It was… how do you put it— very convenient." Kiera gave me a very strange look.

"Do you really expect me to believe some big conspiracy revolves around—"

"Like she said—it doesn't matter whether you believe this. Only that you should stop your snide remarks and we can all pretend to be friends."

"Or what?"

"Or… I… have my ways to make sure you do it." Nothing too unpleasant. For me.

"Is… that a threat?"

"Think of it as a promise. I _promise_ that you will regret that you were quite so merciless to—"

"Zevran…" Kiera had finally found her voice. Strange that she sounded so… exasperated. Most women liked it when I threatened others over their lovely selves.

"Our lovely _bella?_ Kiera to you." I finished.

She and I stared at each other—hers was searching—almost questioningly, before Wynne interrupted our '_moment'_, directing her question at Kiera.

"So, you said you had proof?"

Kiera sighed, and smiled wanly. "It's in Denerim for safekeeping. When we go there, I'll show you. Also… Irving knew. He just told me not to tell him when I was going to attempt my escape. Because of that—I had a full day's headstart before Greagoir could even organize a search party. Irving... is pretty awesome."

The older woman's lips were pursed. Tightly. "You seem very proud of it. The way you escaped."

"Well… Of course I was. I didn't have to resort to blood magic to do it." Kiera shrugged.

The elder mage was clearly still processing the entirety of the conversation, for not a peep came out of her for the rest of our watch, and I was free to gaze upon my deadly sex goddess all I wanted. The latter still seemed rather surprised that I had all that information. Being a Crow certainly had its benefits.

OxOxO

_P.S.: Erm… Well I did say that I wanted Wynne to stop making disparaging remarks. Let's see if she really does._


	14. Chapter 14

_Chapter 14: Draw your weapon, dammit._

_A/N: I'm going to be late for an appointment—but decided to post this up first. Priorities. Heh. Thanks for supporting this! I really appreciate it! xD Please read and review! I want your comments! ^_^_

Alistair

I watched Kiera slip into her tent; the shadowy outline of her figure visible on the cloth of the tent—her brief motions before settling down for the night, and I again agonized over why I had not gone through with _it_. Yet, at the corner of my eye, I noticed the ex-assassin give me a long, disdainful glare before retreating into his own tent. I gazed again at the closed flaps of Kiera's tent, hoping that she would reappear, and smile. No such luck tonight.

I turned away, and jumped to find the _qunari's_ direct attention on me. "So it's just you and me— Sten."

"Obviously." His tone, that somber ring in that single word—cut off any chance for a continuing dialogue, and we remained motionless, silent for a long while. I found that I inadvertently began to glance in that direction—of Kiera's tent. Mmm.

"Draw your blade." Sten's harsh voice was suddenly loud, catching me off guard.

"What? Are you talking to me?" Well—I admit I was panicking. Just a little.

"Your weapon. Draw it."

"Why? Are we under attack?"

"I want to see what you can do."

"You want to fight me? Just like that?"

"You are a Grey Warden. How are you going to face an archdemon if you cannot face me? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"It is a mystery, I'll admit." I paused, before the significance of his last sentence sank in. "Wait—what?"

"So I should just let your weakness damn us all? Draw your sword. I'll try not to injure you permanently. You may wake the mage if you are injured."

"What? I don't have anything to prove to you. Forget it." Did he mean Kiera? Was he giving me… advice? Oh Maker. I stared up at him, hardly believing all of this.

"So you do have a spine. Pity you don't use it." He said, a thin smile curling on those lips. Ugh. If this was any indication that I'd hit rock bottom, it was the _qunari_ giving me relationship advice. He was surprisingly… astute.

xOxOx

Daylen

"Well at least we're done with that." Kiera sighed, as we left the ruins behind, joining Morrigan, Wynne and Loki who we had left out front, guarding the campsite. The ruins were simply too—narrow for us to guard that many mages at the same time. I only got to go because I was the unofficial leader of our little group.

"I know. I never would have guessed that Zathrian was quite so…" I continued, my voice sounding hollow as we heard the forest around us gradually awakening from its slumber—the death-like sleep was over.

"Twisted? Bitter? Rage does many a wrong to the most upright man." Leliana spoke, hurrying to keep up with us; light rain had begun to fall.

"This is why the _qunari_ cut the tongues out of mages. The feud would have been ended long ago."

"People simply aren't always rational. Should one person's mistake force everyone else's lives into a downward spiral?" Kiera replied coldly, spinning around to face the seven-foot _qunari_—planting herself in Sten's direct path. He stopped before he barreled into her, but he wasn't at all amused by her determined stance. They appeared to be at a standoff. Kiera was certainly picking a lot of the fights today; her taunting of Swiftrunner and even Zathrian earlier was quite… out of character.

"He redeemed himself. That's what matters." Kiera finished, her eyes boring holes into Sten's. She was on the warpath—and exceedingly scary. Sten even looked a little surprised.

"Apparently." This (somewhat startled) answer satisfied her, and we continued in relative peace towards our campsite—thankfully those were sheltered from the insistent little droplets. Everyone was cowed by her sudden flash of temper, notwithstanding, of course, Wynne, who was glaring at her.

"We now have the support of the elves. We should move onwards—to Denerim."I wanted to defuse the tense situation in which we had suddenly found ourselves. Leliana ushered Kiera away from the frowning Wynne, pulling her into the former's tent. Alistair looked worriedly at Kiera before she disappeared behind the flaps, and I wondered if he was having second thoughts, scared off by that black displeasure which showed itself when we were at the Tower—almost every month.

xOxOx

Leliana

Kiera was certainly not a good mood, I thought as I watched her pack—still very neat as she threw things into the bag, taking the time to fold (angrily) and store her items in order. She paused for a moment, seemingly listening to something. The slight sounds were indeed getting closer.

"Let me help you with that." I volunteered, taking her items and placing them gently into the pack. We began taking apart the tent when the drizzle finally stopped, as did everyone else. Wynne and Daylen had gone around helping everyone dry the somewhat damp material—mages certainly were useful to have in a party.

"This is not a mood swing." Kiera huffed as she sat on the large rock next to us.

"I know. You are bothered by the omission that Zathrian made, and I understand."

"I just don't understand why people just can't get along without the Grey Wardens' help. I'm starting to believe that we're more like mess-fixers, and the Blight is only secondary to their more _important_ conflicts. Like the Circle. The templars could have just tried to save Irving—but no, they were too scared and –"

"Not everyone has such strength at their disposal. The small dragon and group of revenants you, Daylen and Alistair took down almost unthinkingly—are testament to the ability that you have, not questioning the circumstances, and just working together to fight a larger battle. The rest of the world is more willing to watch you at work, rather than be in your way. You should be flattered." I was telling the truth—Ferelden was indeed the better off having Grey Wardens around—symbolic as their name is, these people stood between good and evil.

"I… understand. I just needed to rant. Do you think I should go around and apologize for my behavior?" The girl took a deep breath and got up from her seat. The rest were already done with their preparations, and I noticed that all of them were tense—so they too had noticed the presence of others? These people were really alert—or must share Kiera's own hate for ambushes. I think the latter.

"Oh no, don't. I especially enjoyed it." I grinned, winking at her; she had on such an adorable display of contrition—worth every second of her short-lived fury. I drew my bow casually, and counted the hiding men off—a party of six.

Kiera sighed and took a deep breath, sending the large misdirection hex which she had been readying all this while—directing this outwards from the campsite. Several arrows sailed impotently, and I heard some swearing. Were these men Orlesian?

"They must have been wandering the forest for days. Idiots. Did they really think that Sten would miss the tracks—as minimal as they were?" Daylen muttered as he casted lightning at the ambushing party.

"Not to mention that we have a bard and an assassin on our midst. If these men were Crows, they wouldn't survive their first year of apprenticeship." Zevran laughed as he too took the men down, rapidly nocking each arrow after firing.

The men were indeed Orlesian, Kiera and I exchanged a look when we questioned the last man left alive. They were sent for me? It had… to be Marjolaine. I had to stop this—and perhaps then I would finally be free from her. Daylen's rage at my former…companion was also very touching.

"We'll seek her out in Denerim. I don't care who she is—Leliana, we'll go with you. She has to be stopped." The anger in his grey eyes surfaced when he'd overheard—and that same strong jawline reappeared, and I have to admit—I was a little distracted by that image.

xOxOx

Alistair

We caught sight of Denerim around midday, and Kiera was talking to Wynne in hushed tones as we neared the gates, before looking up as I approached them—hesitatingly. The older mage shifted away to walk beside Daylen, who was uncomfortable at that—and turned to talk to Leliana as she drew close. Kiera glanced at me as we entered the capital, her expression softened and she flashed me one of her dazzling grins.

"Yes, my dear Alistair?" Her hair had caught the sun's rays, and the glow that settled about her was simply… breathtaking. I continued before all thoughts left my mind.

"Er… You know, maybe this isn't the best time to be thinking of this, but I've got something to ask you. Thing is, since we're in Denerim, and I was wondering whether we might have time to look someone up." She raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Hmm… Is this… a former lover of yours?" A small crease developed in her brow as she thought deeply.

"A former what? Do you honestly think that I'd suggest we go see… together? No!" I spluttered, a little mortified. "The thing is, I have a sister. My mother was a commoner, a serving girl at Redcliffe and she… had a daughter… only I never knew about her. I—don't think she knows about me either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden, I did some checking—and I found out that she's still alive, living here in Denerim."

"A… sister? You want to visit her?" Kiera was apprehensive, turning as Daylen interrupted.

"Hey—um we should split up, no? A huge group like us will attract a lot of attention, this being Loghain's territory." I noticed that Leliana was hiding a tiny smile, looking away bashfully. I wasn't the only one to notice, however.

"Ah. Right. We should meet up later at the Gnawed Noble—the local inn. Would you and Leliana mind—arranging for suitable accommodations? I have an arrangement with the innkeeper, just hand him this," Kiera handed Daylen a small pouch and a sheaf of papers.

"What's in this?"Daylen looked at the things in his hands.

"Um… items of sensitive nature. We'll have to get new armor for everyone, while we're here, but I'll handle that—I can get discounts. I also have some things I need to get from Wonders of Thedas, as well as from Wade's." Kiera looked around at the party. It was quite clear she wanted to get rid of them as fast as possible.

"I'll help you with those, then." Wynne was surprisingly willing in wanting to help Kiera with those. Perhaps taking the same watch did have positive effects in their relationship—I wondered when I'd get my chance to further… _our_ rapport.

"So… everyone gets some free time? Leliana, Loki and I can go get supplies, poultices and potions—that sort of thing. And I saw something like a saddle over there—" Daylen trailed off as his gaze wandered, taking in the numerous sights.

"Sten and I will handle the lodgings then, if we are to share the chores." Morrigan held out her hands for the suspicious items meant for the innkeeper.

"You don't want to look around? At the wonderful things they have here?" Kiera asked, a grin spreading on her face.

"I am simply not interested in a tour of the foul-smelling city." The witch was strangely careful with her words.

"Right. I'm sure you have _other_ tours you wish to be on." Kiera covered her mouth and stifled giggles, as did Leliana- while the rest of us stared. Sten shifted uncomfortably. I agreed with him. Women were truly strange and indecipherable creatures.

Morrigan frowned at her, before striding away. Kiera waved Sten in the retreating mage's direction, and he rolled his violet eyes at her before turning too.

"Well—now that that's settled…" She smiled as she returned her attention to me.

"As loathe as I am to interrupt—" Zevran broke in, "Neither Wynne nor I have anything pressing to attend to—yes?" The elf and the older woman nodded. "Might we accompany you?"

Kiera glanced at me before replying, and I was grateful for her considerate response. "Erm… we have something private to attend to, so… would you and Wynne mind helping either Daylen, or Morrigan? We'll be quick. I think." The elf was not expecting the brushoff, and looked away. For a moment, I almost pitied him. Almost.

"This… won't take long, right?" Kiera smiled, and touched my arm.

"Er… no. This won't take very long." As much as I wanted to wander these streets with Kiera on my arm, I realized that the she and Wynne had a long list of things to get for the rest of us.

OxOxO

_P.S.: So… Denerim. I really don't like the Witherfang/Werewolves bit. Heh. Next update will be in a few days, but as I'm preparing for my exams—er… well I'll do my best!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15: The Truth of the Matter_

_A/N: Hmm this chapter has gotten away from me and I feel strange rereading it, so if you want something explained or anything confusing, please drop me a message or review and I'll see what else can be fixed. Thanks for the continued support!_

Daylen

Leliana was a joy to watch as she flitted from stall to stall, excited, but I suspect I was doing the same, having spent almost a quarter of an hour gazing at the various amounts of 'stuff' I saw on display at the dwarven merchant's stand. We picked up most of the poultices and potions with ease, and were going to start with the purchasing of rations when she stopped, abruptly—before making a beeline to a woman who had set up her shop in the middle of Denerim. They conversed in Orlesian for awhile, so I browsed the stall's goods. These appeared to be perfumes or _toilett__é__ water_ —things that made people (even Loki, I suspect) smell lovely, like fresh-cut lilies or some other sweet-smelling, delicate flower. The woman even handed Leliana a small bottle as we left, and they giggled again. I briefly wondered what was going on—but I didn't want to sound nosy, and so remained silent.

"Do we have anything else to do? Buy?" Leliana asked brightly as we walked around the square (which was really a large oval. Or circle. Not a square.)

"Nothing much—but I really want to see everything, and anything." I replied. My eyes were indeed captured by every bit of shiny thing that was displayed.

"Kiera was one of the only apprentices who could go with the mages and Tranquil on shopping trips—I don't even know how much things are supposed to cost. Or whether I'm being cheated. Sometimes Jowan and I were jealous of her. Sometimes we just hoped that she would get caught by the Templars, if only to tell us what she saw when she had escaped. But most of the time, we were glad that she got out."

"Well… if it's any comfort—you don't ever have to go back—you're out. You'll be able to see all of this, things everyone else takes for granted, anytime you could possibly want. You've found Kiera too, and… you're no longer alone." She was smiling, and her hand touched my own. It was the warmth—the sheer _closeness_ that she presented, that made me feel less… left out, so I smiled back at her, grateful for the words, as well as her company.

It was then I realized how… different she looked—her emerald eyes were soft and gentle, her flaming red hair gleamed and gave her cheeks a healthy glow. I found myself entertaining thoughts that I would have rejected a long time ago; the possibility of another person, especially _her,_ together with _me_. That thought broke off when she kissed me.

xOxOx

Kiera

"Well _that_ could have gone better." I said, looking at the dejected man next to me. "I'm sorry I lost my temper." We were practically kicked out of Goldanna's—after I had scoffed and sneered at the money-grubbing woman.

"No, no. You were right. The woman was an absolute harridan." Alistair straightened his back and stood tall, rubbing his face, frustrated.

"It is a fact of life that when given a choice—many will choose an option that is best in their own interests. You should too. Sometimes, people just do what they want to—even if it means disregarding everything else. " I was very much tired with the whole state of affairs; Alistair would have to learn this, for everyone else practiced the very same thing. As King—he had to.

"I… guess you're right. I have to learn to stand up for myself." He sighed, a lonely, desolate sound. It made me want to hug him then, in the street, but I knew it wouldn't help in clearing his head to think. "Wait. What did you mean back there by older sisters—exactly?"

"I have an older sister. I found her to be incredibly mean and annoying too." I replied simply, turning away—to spot Zevran and Wynne, waiting, nearby.

"So they followed us? They are persistent—aren't they?" Alistair muttered, but as he was in no shape to continue on with us— so distracted, I sent him to the inn. He evidently needed some time alone.

"Are you free now? To show me this proof which you claim to have?" Wynne asked as I walked over to them. Zevran was apparently still miffed, he remained silent at my approach—but that was not to be helped. I had wanted to spend some alone time with Alistair, even if it meant that I had to face a most horrible woman.

I needed to get it over with, and perhaps stop living in guilt. Sigh. "Of course."

xOxOx

Wynne

Kiera had slipped into a dilapidated building in a hideously dirty backalley, telling me and Zevran to stay behind, to wait at the small intersection, looking at the goods that were displayed on cloths laid out in the mainstreet. She told us to follow only if she didn't emerge after a quarter to an hour, and the assassin had offered to keep time. He had looked worried at the way she said that—and grew increasingly restless as the seconds passed, watching the house constantly.

"Zevran? I have a question." I watched him carefully, in order to determine a few of my rising suspicions.

"Again? I'm game."

"You told me earlier that Kiera was the only object of your affections."

"Currently, yes." His light tone did not reveal much of his true feelings.

"But she doesn't appear to feel the same way towards you."

"Ah that's just what you think—my darling Wynne." A smile curled, and it was a bitter one.

"I'm not your 'darling'— and she likes Alistair. You can see that, right?"

"I do not think that that should affect her feelings towards me." He chuckled, but the smile had faded.

"You mean to come between her and Alistair—then?" I admit—this was my true aim.

"You ask a lot of personal questions—Wynne." That smooth, tanned face didn't change again, neither did his voice. He was still intent on staring at the establishment into which Kiera had disappeared.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Oh no. Never—I was just remarking that you seem rather… vested in finding out my interest in her even though you do not like my lovely Kiera very much?"

"Can't I be somewhat curious? Gossip helps to pass the time?" It was somewhat true.

"Now you are just being coy." He smiled, and turned to look at me. "A quarter of an hour is up. We should venture in and find our lovely _bella_."

Zevran

And so the older mage and I went to find out whatever had happened to Kiera. As we were waiting for time to pass, the first thing that I noticed was that none of the urchins that would usually hang around such alleys were there, nor did any of the people we met in the street even begin approach the building. Strange. And potentially dangerous. We needed to find her in that abode. Now.

xOxOx

Zevran

We entered the hall of the house as silently as we could under the circumstances; given the loudly creaking floor—and found the bodies of a small army of men, some of them already bones and small piles of rags. The traps that were in place had recently been deactivated, and I presumed that Kiera did these, seeing her nowhere on the first floor. Wynne was murmuring as she stepped among the bodies, but I pretended not to notice the remarks that she was making about Kiera— it was now thirty minutes past the hour, and urgency was all that I was focused on. I made the mage wait at the stairs, before continuing up them alone.

On the second floor I found fresher kills—pools of still-warm blood and much spattering on the walls. This was turning out to be a house of horrors, and although Kiera appeared to have come out on top, I wished that there was still some sign of her. The corpses seemed to congregate most densely around the stairs to the next floor.

Traversing the rooms on the top floor, I noticed there weren't any more cadavers, but there were boot prints in the dust—made out of heavy platemail. Kiera was wearing platemail, but these prints were much larger than hers, and numerous. This did not bode well.

I found her on the third floor—sprawled on her side, sporting a rising bruise on her eye and bleeding from a cut on her forehead. She was surrounded by five men, three of whom I dispatched with ease. These were also not Crows, and easy to kill. One of the remaining men moved swiftly in my direction, gathering strength before releasing this at me as he swung his sword down. These men were Templars. I barely evaded the smite, jumping by way of leverage from a wall, vaulting over him, drawing my blade across his unprotected neck. Kiera appeared to be barely conscious, trying to lift herself upright and failing to even do that. The dark haired man who stood over her was smiling, before calmly clapping his hands slowly; the sound of the chainmail as he did so alerted me to the rest of his uniform. He was half-dressed; the Templar platemail was left in a heap behind Kiera, who still had most of her armor on.

I readied my blades, but Kiera shook her head, signaling for me to stop. The dark haired man merely laughed and spoke in an accented version of the common tongue. I wanted to end him, right now.

OxOxO

_P.S.: I'm not very good at writing action, it seems. Oh and this will probably be the last chapter I will write before my exams are over on the 30__th__—so bear with me!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16: More Repressed Templars._

_A/N: Because I like to err on the side of caution, the ratings have been changed. Swearing and some bloodshed in this chapter. Heh. Please review!_

Kiera

I entered the dilapidated house—it really was falling apart, time to shift the papers to another place. There were so many bodies after the first hall, littering the first floor, and I knew that these men were most probably Orlesian, sent to retake the compromising missives that I had hid here, on the third floor. Too bad that they didn't notice the traps that I had rigged around the place, hidden in the floorboards, glyphs that ignited all that had put pressure on the contact boards. There were warnings—and these men apparently didn't read the common tongue, or speak the Fereldan dialects. I had left enough rumors about the place if one cared to talk to the locals. I stepped over the bodies and disarmed the traps that I had set on the stairs, grease and hallucination-inducing glyphs—a deadly combination. I guess I should have known that the more senior Templars would be able to get past these particular traps when I came upon several of them (still living and breathing) on the second floor. _Merde_.

They appeared to have been lying in wait for someone—most likely me, so I expected the combined attacks, and no questioning dialogue—two of the closest Templars came at me with two handed blades. Idiots. Those weren't suited for close quarters combat. I ducked under their swings and killed them, cleanly, cutting through the small gap that separated the platemail from the chainmail skirt; I had studied the weak spots in this kind of armor for years. The rest were marginally smarter, and tried to smite me as I casted a spell wisp that would keep out of the range of their 'cleansing' the area of magic. From that, I was able to cast small enchantments that would boost my speed. My daggers took out two of them—and I used one of the large swords to block the crossbow bolts that were shot at me by the last remaining one. I covered the rest of the distance between me and this final Templar, and I knocked off the helm with relative ease, if only to confirm my suspicions. The blue eyes that glared up at mine were definitely familiar, and still impossibly young. It was Pascal.

"Pascal? But that must mean that—"

"Kill me, maleficar. I won't play your little games." He snarled, and spittle sprayed at me.

"Is he here? Hugues?"

"I won't answer your questions. Kill me." I groaned inwardly. Pascal was evidently too far gone for reason.

"Fine. You die then." I hit the man (boy— really, he was barely 20) and he was out like a candle. He would wake up much later, preferably when I was far away from this house. None of the bodies were Hugues—I checked them all. I decided not to think anything of it, and walked up the steps to the next floor. Something didn't feel right—but I shrugged it off as nerves. This place would make even Sten jittery, I think.

The painting was at the end of the hall, hung up above the large fireplace—but this was secured with the most vicious wards in the house. The first was nothing destructive—physically anyway, a combination of glyphs that mimicked the mind blast spells and localized the chain lightning ones, aiming for the touch-er's spirit. Technically, it was supposed to shock the person into a confused, muddled, permanence (on the account that the chain lighting will have continued within the person's body). He/she would remain functional as a person, but dreadfully incoherent to others. Absolutely useless in speech or any other form of communication. Supposedly. Without further ado, I disabled the topmost warding. I didn't disable the second warding yet, something told me not to. Feeling a sudden chill, I looked around—just as a heavy shield and two successive smites came crashing down on me.

xOxOx

Kiera

When I came to a short while after, I wondered (briefly) if I was dreaming. I saw Hugues—one of the two Templars who had escorted me to the Ferelden Circle of Magi—standing over me, watching me with a small smile. I squinted, trying to focus my vision, when I heard him speak in the common tongue. He had had so much scorn for the 'barbaric' language the last I saw him.

"Ah… Sleeping beauty is awake. Do you… really think that you could escape the Divine's judgment quite so… permanently while you are such a threat to Orlais?" That voice was so familiar, cultured tonal inflexions, deep and soothing—but for some reason he also sounded vaguely maniacal. Perhaps it was the odd way he spoke the tongue.

"I… don't know…what—" I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to sit up. Staring up at the Templar, I saw the shadows that perpetually haunted those dark eyes seemingly fill the room too. The other looming men made me nervous. There seemed to be ten—no. Just five of them. I tried to remain calm.

"No, of course you don't. You don't know the half of what makes you so dangerous." That smile turned into an ugly smirk. "You joined the Grey Wardens. They gave you protection in Orlais. But now that you're in Ferelden, that same protection ends. You will die today."

"Why?" I croaked—the only word I could managed as I choked on my own tongue. I had trusted him—he had been one of the only people who even spoke to me at the Orlesian Circle. Templar or no, I thought that we were friends. I realized just how wrong I was.

"Some very selfish reasons on top of the ones I just mentioned. Did you know that your traps took out almost my whole platoon? You seem to be more devious than I remembered. So—how do you say it—Naughty." Hugues began removing his platemail, unbuckling with a measured haste. "You are so lovely, Kiera—all grown up and so wonderfully… _nubile_."

The other Templars shifted uncomfortably. "_Capitaine_—?" The Templar was hesitant. Celibacy was very much important to the Orlesian Templars.

Hugues only hissed at them over his shoulder as he got the platemail gloves off his hands. _You will have your turn_. The very words chilled my blood. It was of no surprise that none of them objected after that. I was pissed, but woefully outnumbered. Not to mention that I didn't even have one iota of mana left. I couldn't even sit up.

All too soon, he was only down to his chainmail—while I lay, practically immobile, having been smited twice more for squirming as Hugues tried to undo _my_ platemail. "Stop moving—_apostat__é pute._" He muttered as the other Templars looked on. I could barely think straight, but I felt a distinct surge of relief when Zevran barged into the room, startling the Templars into a panic. He dispatched the four with a swift grace, and I found the strength to breathe again. But I didn't want him to kill Hugues. Not yet. There was something else I wanted to know. Then I wanted to kill him myself.

xOxOx

Zevran

Kiera was lying prone—but kept trying to sit up. The underdressed Templar took one look at the both of us and sneered at her, something in Orlesian. I rather think that it was something deprecating, judging by the sudden flare of temper in Kiera's manner; her eyes, body radiated with an unseen power. The Templar noticed it too, and smited her again. Seeing her petite frame jerking lifelessly with the sheer strength of that move, I took a step forward, and was smited too in return. I think I just might hate all Templars after this.

Kiera

And so I was smited again. A total of five times within what—an hour? All in all, I was quite relieved that I didn't lose consciousness again, or worse, die. It was nice to test the boundaries of my resistance. No, it wasn't. I was joking. To myself. I was getting to be slightly mad and delirious by all that trauma. I saw Zevran crumple to the floor, the might of Hugues's smite had flung him across the room and into the wall. I was going to slay his hypocritical ass myself, even if I was going to damn myself for eternity. The wound on my head had reopened, and the blood started running into my right eye. I knew that at the moment that Hugues turned back to me— he was going down.

Zevran

I think I blacked out for just a moment—but when I came to, I saw Kiera standing over our chainmail-clad attacker, blade in hand, pressing the sharp point to his neck. She looked like the avenging goddess that she was—her light halo of hair glowed even in the dim. She also appeared to be interrogating the Templar—who was helpless, even as he knelt, tried to resist her gaze. Why did she suddenly have him in her power?

"Did you know about all of this when you escorted me to the Ferelden Circle? When you and Marc pretended to be my friends?"

The Templar merely laughed; a harsh, unattractive sound. He then continued in the Ferelden tongue—supposedly for _my_ benefit. "Yes—but does it matter? Both of us knew. You _are_ a Maleficar." He paused, before continuing with a smirk. "He died for you, you know? They executed him last month—the spineless fool—helping you to escape our clutches when he knew you for what you were—a temptress, and a blood-whore."

An unfathomable expression was on Kiera's face. Her voice was equally unreadable, and I felt the air grow cold—as a visible power swirled around her figure, covering her body, face, hands—when it suddenly stopped. The Templar started to laugh again, but this time it was cut off prematurely—and his headless body toppled to the floor. Then, with her shaking hands, Kiera dropped the blade, seemingly willing herself into a state of control, and hurried over to me, and casting a spell that regenerated my strength. She was silent, and turned away as I slowly stood up, her attention focused on the painting that hung over the fireplace.

Kiera

I was not proud of what I had done—using blood magic to bring Hugues to his knees. I didn't kill him with it though, it was too stupid a thing to even contemplate. He wasn't worth eternal damnation, but Maker—how I wanted to.

"Zevran. Could you get Wynne please? There's a Templar on the second floor who will need medical attention. He's not very good at smiting, so there's not much danger in approaching him. I'll be with you shortly." I was surprised at how calm I sounded, and still more at how readily Zevran responded to my instructions. Maybe he wanted to be away from me as fast as possible. I wasn't surprised by much anymore.

The second ward was a lot more dangerous to undo, and although I had already gotten what I wanted from the hidden panel in the frame of the painting, I deliberately triggered the second warding—the large glyph that glowed a deep red was expansive, having included the whole room in its perimeter, and in a flash, the room was on fire. I walked out of the place, just as it collapsed, meeting up with Wynne and Zevran on the second floor. Pascal was already conscious, but he had opted to remain in the burning house rather than escape with us. To be honest, I didn't care anymore—and neither did Zevran. Wynne only shook her head at the foolish child as we left the building. It burnt itself into a cinders and ashes within a short five minutes, before extinguishing like it was supposed to do. I was rather proud of it—I remember thinking before I passed out from sheer exhaustion—these timed glyphs were a pet hobby of mine.

xOxOx

I only came to in the room of the Gnawed Noble, panicked, searching myself for the precious sheaf of paper. Sitting up, I found myself dressed in my sleepshirt and my companions silently reading the papers that had led to so much death back in the house— where the Orlesian Templars were apparently lying in wait for me. Leliana turned, and seeing my wakefulness, pounced on the bed and flung her arms around me. The rest turned their gazes upon me, and I was immediately offended by the pity that lay in their eyes. I noticed Zevran's absence. Was he alright?

"Where is Zev? Is he alright?" I croaked, trying to ignore their expressions of sympathy. Leliana had finally let go of me, and she seemed quite unable to speak—so close to tears.

"He is in the next room. Wynne had to force him to rest with a sleep spell." Daylen looked at me searchingly, and when Morrigan and Wynne slipped out of the room, he calmly shut the door. Leliana saw all of this, and mutely left the room too—but not before squeezing Daylen's shoulder. The two were apparently now on the same page with regards to their affections; a gratifying development in all this drama.

"And… Alistair?" I hesitated to ask, but I wanted to know. I sort-of hoped that he had a good reason to be elsewhere.

"He is with Zev." Daylen's voice was empty of emotion, and I sighed, leaning back against the headboards of the bed. He then sat next to me on the mattress, before sighing heavily too, slumping to the side. He was overwhelmed—and I said the only thing I could think of, if only to fill the silence. And possibly release this tension.

"Hey—I was wondering… Leliana wouldn't get jealous if you hug me, right? Given the fact that you and I are more likely to be—" I had barely gotten these words out before he did, and I was encased in a surprisingly strong embrace. I winced. I bruised easily.

"You should have said something. Anything. I had to hear it from _Wynne_. You owe me an explanation. _Now_." He murmured as he released my now-aching shoulders and neck.

"The papers weren't enough to tell the whole story?" I knew this, but I wondered aloud anyway.

"They aren't, and you know that. The papers only insinuate that you deserved death, and all who aid and or harbor you are to be killed. Even the Circle. Something about a fake phylactery." He paused, before continuing, "Therein lies a gap in the letters. A huge gap. Why? Why you?"

xOxOx

Alistair

I sat in the chair, watching Zevran sleep. Even as unconscious as he was, he presented so much threat. He had saved _her_—brought her back from the Templars, and in doing so, would have normally redeemed himself tenfold in my books, but… I felt Kiera slipping away—further from me in that I seemed to not even know her. Her past had caught up with her— and I wasn't there. It was a clear indicator of my ignorance, my self-centeredness. I wondered why it was so—that I had rejected her recent attempt at revealing details of her past—and yet Zevran seemed to know so much about it. Was it due to the nights they spent on the same watch? She had seemed very much caught up by my being of Maric's blood—was this why I couldn't accept her own history? Was it because of Orlais? I wanted answers, but I had no clue as to where to get those. But I couldn't ask her—not now.

Soon afterwards, Wynne entered the room and checked the elf's vitals, glancing at me from time to time as she did so. When she was finally satisfied, she removed the spell, to which effect was that Zevran sat up almost immediately, and scrambled out of the bed, wanting to know of Kiera's condition. Wynne tutted and motioned for him to stay in bed and rest, but to no avail.

"She's fine. Daylen's with her." My voice sounded so… tired, and yet it grated even on my nerves. I sounded so uncaring, so detached from everything that had happened—I sounded like a jerk. I felt like a jerk.

"And why are _you_ not there with her?" The elf was accusing, as he pulled on a shirt before making a move for the door. I blocked his way.

"She has Daylen. And she needs to rest." That excuse didn't even sound convincing to myself; Zevran only glanced at me before he drove an elbow into my side viciously, forcing me to the floor, and left. Wynne was just as stunned as I was, gaping after him.

"_Pezzo di merda_." I think he swore at me—but I felt that I had deserved every syllable of it. Sigh.

Daylen

Zevran entered the room, his eyes snapped to Kiera almost immediately, as if confirming her wellness. He evidently cared more for her than his own health—being smited was no joke, even for non-mages.

"You are fine now, my—_bella_?" He had barely registered my presence in the room, but he nodded at me by way of greeting, and stopped short, before he hopped up on the bed. His feelings for her were evidently very obvious.

Kiera smiled and sighed, relieved at his relatively unharmed appearance. She had stopped at a very crucial part of her narration—and much as she wanted as few people to know as possible, it was impossible to try and get rid of Zev when he had just saved her life. "I'm fine, Zev. Could you lock the door please? I…" Zevran promptly turned the lock, and placed a chair under the knob—effectively barring it shut. The fact that his actions did not even have to require an appropriate reason from her made me like him just a little bit more. Maker, it seemed that I was wrong about him—he genuinely liked her.

Kiera

"Continue, please." Daylen's voice was low, and he looked vaguely sheepish. Zevran took a seat next to us, on a nearby chair. To be honest, I preferred that he was here, even for morale support. He seemed was much less likely to explode upon hearing about such strange things. Much unlike certain other people I knew. I took a deep breath, and began recounting—the tale that had haunted any undarkspawn-filled nightmares that I lived and breathed, became lost in when I fell asleep each night.

xOxOx

"_There was once a ruler and his wife—they were happy and very much in love with each other, and they had a beautiful daughter who grew up to be an unmatched monarch. But as the story goes, the ruler was pressured into trying for another child—hopefully a male child, if only to secure the future of his country. So he and his wife tried again, even if they were much older than the average parents, after having tried for ten years, the wife was pregnant again, and they were thankful. Yet, the baby turned out to be another girl child—but she was still loved very much. Everything was all and well, that is, until the elder child began to display signs of jealousy, and the two parents began to separate them from the other—dividing their time between the two; breeding more dislike in the eyes of the older child. _

_All the trouble began during the younger girl's first birthday, when the older sister blew out the candle on the cake prematurely, spitefully, deliberately. The strangest thing was that the candle had caught fire again, while the parents were berating the older girl. She blew it out again, just to disconcert the younger child, and watched with glee. Everyone in the hall watched in amazement (and no small amount of horror) that she, the younger girl only smiled, and concentrated on the candle, and the tip burst into flame again. She was a mage._

xOxOx

Zevran

"So… That's it. I was a mage, and immediately given to the Orlesian Circle, before in turn, being passed on to Ferelden's Circle in order to absolve the former from the responsibility ofhaving a blood mage in their midst." Kiera had finished, and whilst speaking, had buried herself under more layers of the bedclothes. All that was left visible of her were her white-blonde tresses, and even that was slowly being covered. Daylen, was watching her closely, realization dawning on his face. She was of royal blood. Of the Orlesian Imperial Court. A Princess.

"_Bella_, those men were Orlesian? Why did you not let me kill their leader? And… his armor… why was it—" Daylen looked up sharply, and his piercing grey eyes bespoke the fury that had been building throughout Kiera's soliloquy.

Kiera looked even more miserable—if that was possible. But she attempted to sit up, pushing the mound of cloth away from her. She seemed almost sheepish as she explained. "He's… Hughes—I mean Hugues. He was one of the Templars who had escorted me from Orlais to the Ferelden Circle of Magi. I had—I mean I thought—that he was my friend. He wasn't the one who had swapped the phylacteries, but he was very nice to me, back then."

"But he had his armor off! You expect me to believe that—" I was very much interested in that bit too. Was he— oh.

She fell silent, before mumbling, "And I wanted to kill him myself. He betrayed me."

"Was he…" I began, unsure of how to put this delicately.

"Long story short—I attract… Templars. Even in Orlais." Kiera said to me. She was attempting to appear normal, but no small amount of pain flickered across her face when she said that word. Daylen was thunderous—his dark eyebrows furrowed in an ominous moment. Templars. That _idiota. C__oglione._

OxOxO

_P.S.: It gets a bit… nasty with all the swearing. I apologise. But I left them in because I thought they would fit the mood? Also, I think I had too much fun with this chapter. Sigh. Okay, there will be no more updates until 1st December. I really need to get back to studying. Ugh. Thanks for reading!  
><em>


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17: Marjo-what?_

_A/N: Okay I couldn't keep myself from writing, even as stacks and stacks of notes cover my desk—things to read and memorise before the exams. Never mind. I want to write._

_xD hope you enjoy reading as much as I had fun writing it! Please review when you're done!_

Daylen

As much as I felt uncomfortable to leave the two of them alone, I needed to speak to Leliana. Kiera could defend her own honor and Zevran was… really not all that bad. Leliana too had a past that had to be taken care of, before it festered, and haunted every step she took—like Kiera's. Just thinking about that made my blood boil. No one was going to persecute my friends—no, my… loved ones.

Alistair seemed to be in a daze; he was sitting alone at a table in the main hall of the tavern, nursing a small drink. I shook my head; he and Kiera obviously had to work things out with each other, and it wasn't my place to say anything. I slipped into the room that Leliana was sharing with Wynne—although I would now very much prefer that she bunked with Kiera. I didn't exactly feel right letting Morrigan share a room with the former.

The red-haired girl turned when I knocked on the door after I had already closed it. She appeared to be quite preoccupied, having not noticed that I was already in the room.

"Ah… Daylen." She forced a smile—I could see that something bothered her. I was betting that it was Marjolaine. That woman had a mouthful for a name.

"Leliana—do you—want to go find her… that woman? Now?" I could see that same urge to seek out Marjolaine in her eyes. Yet still she hesitated.

"I—do you think that we should wait till Kiera and Zevran are better? We—"

"No sense in putting it off. Marjolaine might try something again. We should strike now—during nightfall, when she doesn't expect us."

"The direct approach then? Hmm…" Leliana appeared pensive again. I touched her chin gently, guiding her eyes away from the floor. I wanted to look into those eyes—those lovely green orbs that had filled me with hope.

"Yes. I know it might not count for much… But I'll be there with you. We'll deal with her—together." I could feel my cheeks flush a hot red, but I persisted.

To my immense relief, she giggled, her girlish charm reappearing. "Oh. Silly—it means a lot to me. _You_ mean a lot to me."

We gazed at each other for a long while, but I knew that we could not get distracted, not now. Not when someone else was out there, trying to take _her_ away from me. I broke the tender silence. "We'll need a couple more people then. Let's bring Alistair and Morrigan?"

She smiled. "Sure." I would make it up to her later. After the danger was gone.

"Sten and Wynne will take good care of Kiera and Zev. Also—Loki seems quite adamant about not letting her leave his sight again." This was true—the mabari had burst in through the door as I was leaving, and bounced joyously around the room—delighting both Kiera and Zevran with his doggy antics. Leliana and I went to talk to our two companions, separately.

I took Alistair. "Hey. You're coming with us."

The man looked up blearily at me. "What? Where?"

"Marjolaine. We might as well get all these Orlesians out of the way."

"Oh. Yes. Of course." Alistair got up from the chair a little unsteadily.

"You're not drunk—are you?"

"What? No. I only bought the one ale—but I can't seem to bring myself to swallow any of it. Give me a moment, I'll get my blade and shield." He left the tavern area, before reappearing shortly after.

Leliana

I approached the mage, cautiously. "Morrigan?"

She turned and fixed those citrine eyes on me. "Yes? What is it?"

"We are… going—will you come with us?" I gestured in Daylen's direction, and saw the witch eye the handsome mage interestedly with an arched brow. Somehow—that made me a tad uncomfortable.

"Hmm… I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?" She mused, a smile forming on those dark lips.

Daylen walked over, having overheard her question. "No, not really. Unless you'd prefer to be on nurse duty. We're going to make sure that no one else will be ambushed by some vestige of their past."

She seemed to consider Daylen's words before replying with a nod. "Fair enough. Lead the way." I really didn't like her. At all. She seemed too interested in Daylen's... nice, broad shoulders as she followed him out to the entrance of the Gnawed Noble.

Daylen

We had barely left the inn when Morrigan and Alistair began bickering again. Funny thing, I was now more inclined to take Morrigan's side. Still, both Leliana and I had had enough practice trying to ignore their fights—to a certain extent, of course.

"This is why he leads, instead of you? I must admit I very much prefer this." Morrigan's voice rang in the silence of the streets.

"I simply _prefer_ to follow." Alistair sounded as if he was barely paying attention. I began to wonder if bringing him along was a good idea.

"Really? I just assumed that it was because you would rather not face _any_ responsibility."

"What are you talking about?" He snapped and Leliana glanced over at them, worried. I was tempted to stop them, but Morrigan seemed to be quite… perceptive.

"_He_ takes on the role as decisively as you shirk it."

"You know nothing—witch."

"I pity Kiera—really. She seems to have fallen for a fool. And a coward."

"You are asking for it – aren't you?" I heard Alistair's hand brush his blade.

"I mean it is indeed remarkable— how blind she is to your numerous failings." This was where I had to call a truce—Alistair was brooding silently, and that never was a good sign.

I spun around on my heel. "Hey, you two. Shut it. Show of solidarity, remember?"

Alistair moved away from Morrigan. "Fine."

"Tis a fine plan—leader." She sounded vaguely sarcastic, but I really couldn't be bothered to make her clarify.

Leliana giggled as she touched my arm. "You know—you would make a fine commander."

I winked, and whispered back. "I know. You should see me in some platemail. I look absolutely marvelous."

xOxOx

We entered the house that the assassins had told us to investigate—and sure enough, we found Margolaine and her posse.

"Don't look now, but we've got company." Alistair muttered as Marjolaine's guards began attacking us the instant we entered. It was only a matter of time before they were felled—but I saw Alistair tear into them with a rage that told much of his pent up frustration, so much so that both Morrigan and Leliana were likewise also concerned at the way he bahaved. Yet we decided not to say anything—for Marjolaine was the true motive for our little 'visit'.

"Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear." The older woman had a most unmistakable Orlesian accent, and I saw Leliana flinch at that greeting. "Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations... I try to be a good host, but you see what I to work with? This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes... ugh." She made a mock grimace, completely ignoring the rest of us.

"You are Marjolaine? We seem to have killed your guards." Whatever possessed me to open a conversation with that, I'll never know.

That got her attention, but she still only referred to Leliana. "So business-like, your companion."

"You framed me, had me caught, and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden I would be free of you. But it seems that I am not. What happened to make you hate me so?" I tensed and glanced at Leliana, and saw she had a pained look in her eyes. "Why did you want me dead so badly?" The two appeared to have a history—and I hated the woman even more. How could _she_ bear to do this to her?

"Dead? Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of four, five men... you can dispatch easily. They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are." She played with the lives of those men we had killed—she had never intended for them to succeed? We needed to say something to throw her off— and keep that sardonic smile from her face.

"You could have just written her a letter, you know." I mused, watching this Marjorlaine. She was indeed very vain—although her age barely showed through the subtly applied makeup, she looked to be about… middle-aged.

"Ignore what she says, she is lying. I know how she works—What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?" Leliana was trying to remain calm, but her breathing was shallow, and rapid.

"In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? _What is she up to?_ I thought. _The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy... this not her._ You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched... but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me."

Leliana was biting her lip—and tears were filling her eyes. I decided to answer for her. "You think Leliana left the Chantry because of some old bag in Orlais?" I let a small smirk show. "Not everything is about you—Marjolaine."

The woman merely scoffed, "Oh, is that what you think? If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl... a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act." I didn't care to hear anyone talk about my Leliana like that—and I admit I went and stepped on her metaphorical toes. Hard.

"Hardly. I think I know the side of her that _you_ choose not to see. Leliana has spent the last two weeks with us—and you were nowhere in her thoughts. She chose to help us—to end the Blight, her calling in life now much more … _exciting_ than hunting down some decrepit _elderly_ lady back in Orlais. If you must know, she _chose_ to join _me_." I paused for effect before continuing. "I think I _win_."

Marjolaine was silent as the words sank in. I don't think I expected the sudden baring of a wicked blade, and the woman springing forward—aiming for my heart. Nothing shocked me more, however, to see Leliana suddenly between the both of us—and Marjolaine, a lifeless body sinking to the floor, the tip of a dagger sticking out her back. Wow.

"You keep your hands off him." Leliana hissed as she straightened, combing a hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to mine, and I couldn't help but grin at the fierce determination on her pretty face. I never had a woman fight for me before.

xOxOx

Wynne

Kiera and Zevran appeared to be getting along fine— she was reading the precious papers that she had salvaged from that dreadful house, and he was content to watch her. Loki insisted on planting himself in front of the door to that room, and as much as I did not want to interrupt, I really needed to check on their health.

"Sit still, Kiera—you were smited so many times in a small space of time, I need to make sure that your mana is regenerating normally."

"I'm fine, Wynne—quite chipper, actually. A little hungry, but that's about it."

"Me too, actually, my darling Wynne," Zevran smirked. "Might we go have some dinner? Or supper. Or both—both would be good."

I sighed. These two were evenly matched in wheedling in order to get their way. "Only if you put on some pants, young lady."

Kiera nodded, and grabbing a pair from her pack, disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

"Is this how you would address an Orlesian princess?" Zevran remarked, his voice low and teasing.

I turned to face him. "What?"

"Well… whether you like it or not, Kiera is still— of Imperial blood."

"That… actually explains a lot. She does look remarkably like Empress Celene."

"She does, doesn't she?" Zevran paused, considering the facts. "But her hair—now that is of the true Imperial bloodline, such a dazzling shade of gold. She definitely is her mother's child." I looked at the door to the bathroom just as it opened, and Kiera sailed out—still smiling. "Alright. Pants on. Dinner. Starving." She beckoned at Zevran, and the elf went with her to the door.

"Yes, yes, my _bellissima_. We shall satisfy your hunger."

I shook my head as they left the room. Zevran was certainly enjoying himself.

Kiera

We ordered ale, bread, some baked potatoes—and grudgingly, some stew. At least the one served in the Noble wasn't grey, or quite as thick as some of the worst I've had. Zev really was also a wonderful companion to have during a meal—we spoke of everything under the sun; and I was aware that he purposefully avoided those that related to my past, and Orlais.

It wasn't long when we were accosted by some drunkards.

"Hey— what is wrong with women these days? You doing knife-ears now? Humans ain't good for you enough anymore?" The man belched, and swayed from side to side, slamming his fist on our table. Zevran only stared, before laughing in the man's ugly mug.

"If you wish to learn some tips on how to keep your woman, I would gladly teach you. However, there appears to be no cure for the physical weaknesses that plague men like you. Sadly, no amount of bedroom fantasies can cover that distressing visage your poor wife no doubt continually endures." I hiccoughed, Zevran was certainly… mean when he put his mind to it. I watched the scene with interest.

The man blinked as he tried to process the insult, and roared in rage when he understood the disparaging aspects of it. He swung a fist at Zev, and that mis-aimed punch sent him teetering offbalance, and the drunkard soon found himself staring up from the floor. Zev stood over him, amused. The man's friends soon tried to enter the fray, surrounding my comrade with a stunning show of solidarity. Sten had appeared from the rooms, and had started tearing these men from the circle as Zevran looked up bemused, at the hulking _qunari_ . I grabbed a fist as one of these startled men drew it back, and said as brightly as I could, "A round of drinks for these men—barkeep."

The men looked round at me curiously, and I stared back steadily. "Look, you men need drinks, and you obviously don't want to be cast as intolerant bastards—so just leave us to our food, and we'll leave you to your fun. Also… my friend is an assassin, and I would _really_ prefer not to explain your mysterious deaths to the soldiers come morning."

The other men stepped back from us, embarrassed and wary at the hostile way Sten still hovered around them, as Zevran came to stand next to me. The drunkard who had started it all was still whining to everyone—and was reaching threateningly at Zev, glaring at me when I blocked his way. Sten had a large hand on this man's throat, pinning him to the floor of the tavern. We were drawing quite a crowd.

"Outta the way—you dumb—" He started, whilst still on his back, and I cut him off with a few choice words of my own.

"Did you not hear what I just said? Why do you think I am travelling with him anyway? I might be interested to demonstrate to your friends just how… girly a big strong man like you can squeal when he is gutted alive. My _qunari_ friend here will hold you down." An evil smile spread across my face, and I saw the man gape—immediately sobered. "Hell hath no fury indeed." Sten remarked, before letting go of him, and leaning against the wall next to our booth—keeping a watchful eye on the now-murmuring crowd.

Zev and I went back to our rapidly cooling food—but we continued just as before; with small talk and jokes, when Daylen and Alistair came through the doors. Suddenly, I lost my appetite.

xOxOx

_P.S.: Yes, I'm mean. Having trouble writing the following convo between Kiera and Alistair—so… same few words: bear with me! :D_


	18. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18: Leaving Denerim At Last._

_A/N: I hope that you all aren't already bored silly—but this is a chapter that was really hard to write. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

Kiera

It was now or never, and I really needed to speak to Alistair. "Alistair? I—we need to talk." He barely glanced at me, but shared a look with Daylen, who then hid a grin. Curious, I followed them both into their room. Daylen put down his staff next to the bed and patted me on the head before leaving, and then it was just the two of us in that room. I sat idly on Daylen's bed, waiting for Alistair to finish removing the heavy platemail—having already stashed his shield and blade nearby.

"Kiera—before you begin, I… want to tell you something."

"No. I want to go first. Ladies should always go first. And you went first the last time."

"I…" He turned around and stared at me, before smiling, just a little. Alistair then sat on his bed, and started to pull off his chestpiece—thoroughly distracting me from my thoughts. "Okay. You first."

"Um… Yes. The thing is—I'm not exactly a commoner in Orlais. At least, my blood isn't. So you see—there would be certain… consequences if we persist in this— that and Zevran…" I looked away, trying to figure out how to put it gently.

"Yes… Daylen told me about it on the way back. He's actually very good to you."

"Daylen?"

"No. I meant… Zevran."

"What? Why is this suddenly about Zev?"

"He was there for you when I wasn't. It's only natural that—"

I couldn't believe it. "You want me to go and be with Zevran?"

"Yes. It's… for the best. He's nice to you, and you like him—and I—"

"That's not the point. So you do not feel anything? At all? What about us?" My voice was getting a bit shrill and loud, but I really did not care anymore.

He sat in silence. "I just thought…"

Now I truly felt like I was being played for a fool. "If you really feel that way—fine." I got off the bed hurriedly, turning away from Alistair. A grab at my wrist pulled me away from the door, and I spun—into Alistair, who also tripped and fell onto the bed, dragging me with him, and I landed heavily on his chest. Ow.

"It's not that—I…" He took a deep breath, and continued, gently holding me to him. I could feel each breath he took, the rapid 'thumps' that his heart made. Perhaps it was mine. I couldn't tell. "I want the two of us to be together— I want you—I definitely want to be with you… Maker—I can't think straight whenever I'm around you, and as much as I couldn't bear to see you with him—I thought that…"

I pulled away from him, away from that embarrassing position. "You thought what? That I'm some kind of… thing that you can just shove at other people? Andraste's blood, Alistair you idiot—I… like you. I really do—but you are not making this easy. That, coupled with our bloodlines—we really need to think this through—" I broke off; unable to say what I knew was inevitable.

Thankfully, Alistair filled that pause. "I'm sorry. Maybe that's the trouble with me and thinking. Speaking. And saying what I think. I always say the wrong things around you; I'm… not very bright, am I?" He was being mournful, and unfortunately, I found it hilarious. I am ashamed to say that I laughed.

"You're laughing. At me." He said pointedly, and I tried to rein in my mirth by biting my tongue. Alistair seemed almost normal as he sat up, and faced me; a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious." I could feel my smile fading as I listened to my own voice. I didn't want to sound mean; yet I could just hear myself getting there. "But Alistair, I'm not very confident of our prospects as a couple, but a part of me definitely does not want this to end—"

I felt his hand gently stroke my cheek, and my voice faltered again. It was very nice, but also incredibly disconcerting. "I— think I know what you mean. Kiera— maybe our best option is to start over. Do we… should we try that instead?"

Relieved, I nodded. At least I didn't feel as bad as I did when I first resolved to clear the air with him. I wanted to see that smile again—those grins—not clouded by this… sort of thing.

We left the room, only to find the rest looking at us expectantly—these people were way too interested in our relationship. Zevran was watching us too, but he didn't say anything either. Daylen waved us over, and gestured to the spread of food with a hand that was still clutching a roll of bread. He was eating my food. Hmph.

xOxOx

Alistair

We turned in for the night—Daylen had passed out only moments before into an alcohol-induced slumber, so I did not really expect him to be able to speak quite so… soberly.

"So… What's going on with Kiera and you? Sh-traightened it out?" Daylen barely slurred his words, even as he lay on his back, with his eyes shut and his breathing heavy. How… strange.

I lay back on the bed—somehow still able to smell the soft fragrance that her brief presence in this room had left behind. "Mmm. We've agreed to remain friends." For now.

"That's… nice." Daylen was silent for such a long time that I almost thought that he had fallen asleep. "You know—if the two of you do get together—Orlaish will have a fit." I hadn't thought of that, and was still mulling it over when he started to speak again. "But that meansh I'll be the… only Grey Warden left in Ferelden— You'll be King—and Kiera will be…" He trailed off midsentence. Daylen was now dead to the world.

"Goodnight—Daylen." I didn't want to think about it. Grey Warden business inevitably came first, but on the off chance that—I shook my head, clearing it of such thoughts that would no doubt give me false hope, and make me feel guilty all the same. I could still see her hurt, confused face when I closed my eyes. Kiera.

xOxOx

Kiera

So I got Daylen to drink more than he should—much to the amusement of our other companions; he never even checked when yet another teeming mug of ale appeared in front of him, always assuming that it was the same one mug of ale. Leliana giggled, even though I knew that she was distracted by something—perhaps grieving for this Marjolaine; who was after all her mentor, and I suspect that it had been something more than that. She excused herself early—and so did Wynne, who had a waning interest in our antics. I watched Leliana leave the table, and I suddenly felt like sobering Daylen up and sending him after her. She looked so lonely.

xOxOx

_She woke up in a small bed—everyone else was still sleeping. Creeping out of the apprentices' room, she snuck into the corridor, and sat in front of the huge fireplace in the main hall that would blaze the whole night through. She would stare at that painting hung above the hearth, of the Empress and her husband, the consort—and wondered what it would be like, to be normal, to not have such… dangerous powers. The curtains in the room were always drawn—not a slip of the moonlight would be seen, for the torches that lined the halls were ever burning, ever illuminating the long halls, casting the flickering shadows that all young mages grew up in. _

_She was never taught a spell, not directly—for none of the instructors would even correct her if she failed at any of her attempts, and so she often resorted to casting small ones in the light of the fire—hoping that none of the Templars would come upon her. The Templars were scary, stern men who hated mages with a vehemence one usually reserved for…well… bugs? She didn't know—she never met anyone else outside the Circle. And since no one in the Circle even wanted to talk to her—silence was all she had to work with. She sat there, on the nice big rug, and took out a little notebook from under her robes; filled with scribbles that were made by memorizing the same ones seen in class earlier that day. She remembered the exact outcomes the instructors had shown the other students, and mimicked these with a pained expression—she wished that she had proper books to refer to, and not her incomplete notes._

_She casted these spells in the quiet, accompanied by nothing but the slight crackling that came from the fireplace, before being startled by a looming shape of a man. She could've screamed, but he had had a finger to his lips, and proffered her with a bundle of something. She bit back her rising terror, still staring up at the Templar, and opened the oilcloth to reveal some books, which were written in a strange script. He smiled, and leaned against the wall, watching her elation with some interest; the platemail seemed to make it impossible for him to sit. The girl only covered the gift, turning back to her own small, slight movements, practicing the frost spells over and over again, glancing up every now and then at the Templar, who she saw had the darkest hair—and the faintest of smiles on his thin lips. He said his name was Marc. She only smiled in reply. She had no name._

xOxOx

Daylen

I woke up with a really dry mouth—and a blinding headache. My hands were shaking almost too much to even cast the rejuvenation spell that would clear the mustiness in my mind, and a laughing Kiera did it for me—even as Wynne hid a smile. Senior Mages were apparently also privy to that particular usage of the said magic; and as disturbing as an image of a drunken Irving was, I was very glad that this was so. At least we weren't nagged at.

Kiera and Wynne left with Sten and Loki to get the rest of our supplies— whilst the rest of us went to find this Brother Genitivi, to learn more about the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Zevran and Alistair were on speaking terms again, surprisingly, as we approached the house that Isolde had indicated on our map. It was an uneasy camaraderie, but way better than nothing.

"So those... designs you have all over your back..." Alistair began, uncertainly.

"They're called tattoos. And I have them in many more places than just on my back, my friend." Zevran sounded smug.

"Err... right. I hear that someone gets those by having needles put the ink under your skin?"

"A great many needles, amongst other things. Yes, that would be true."

" Oh… Didn't that hurt?"

"Ohhh, yes, yes. But it is not so bad, in truth. If you like, I could give you one. I learned a bit of the art myself in Antiva."

Alistair shook his head. "Oh, no. No, I don't think so." To be honest, I was kind of curious as to how tattooing would feel; I had spotted the tattoo on Kiera just the other day. If she could bear with it, I think I could. Possibly.

"Come, it will just be a small one. Perhaps the symbol of the Grey Wardens? Something manly! Where are my needles?" The assassin rummaged through a small pack, searching for something.

Alistair looked alarmed at that. "Um... maybe some other time. I'm... I'm going to go stand over—"

"Even Kiera has one. It is the herald of the Grey Wardens. I am sure you would want something similar?" I had no idea that Zevran knew that, and neither did Leliana. She was listening in on them, worriedly.

Alistair was thinking the same thing. "Really? Wait—how would you even know that?"

"Now now, a gentleman never reveals his secrets. Well, I can't say that I am very gentle—but I do have my moments." Alistair gaped, and refused to speak for quite some time. Zevran had merely smiled, and winked at both Leliana and I—perhaps he had heard Kiera mention it? Somehow, I had a suspicion that I would rather not find out.

xOxOx

Kiera

We had just dropped off the drake scales that I had salvaged from our stint at the Tower—the little dragon things we had slaughtered yielded quite valuable material for some new armor. The ecstatic Wade had in return given me huge discounts for the platemail that Sten was now fitted with, much to the chagrin of his partner. We were to return later to pick up the armor, as he would shut down his shop just to 'research' the best utilization of the scales. Wynne was surprisingly amused at the way I had shamelessly gotten Wade to give us the discounts— perhaps she was interested in trying her hand at bargaining with the merchants? We came to a stop in front of the Wonders of Thedas, even as the _qunari _grew annoyed at all the shopping that we were doing, impatient at the 'flight of fancy' that we appeared to be indulging in. Loki had to remain outside the shop; there was a strict 'no animals' policy—and he whined to no end when we shut the door on him.

In the shop, I retrieved the maps and scrolls which I had ordered all those years ago—the tranquil who ran the store found them only with some effort. These were maps of Orlais, the Free Marches, Antiva, Rivain— (with the exception of Orlais) all destinations of places I had wanted to visit so badly. Now, there was little chance of that ever coming true. Wynne took these from me with some interest, but she didn't stop to ask me about them—we were both distracted by the way that Sten was reacting to some of the more—exotic merchandise. Both of us chuckled at his discomfort; some of the materials that decorated the shelves and displays were definitely… salacious.

We met up with the rest in the main market area—and I was surprised to find a huge ball of yarn in Loki's mouth, no doubt 'salvaged' from some rubbish heap. It was spit-covered, but turned out to be such a surprising shade of blue that I kept it (after wrapping it some oilpaper). We left Denerim for Lake Calenhad—hopefully more clues would surface there; of both the missing Brother Genitivi, and Sten's lost blade.

xOxOx

P.S.: And so we finally leave Denerim. Whew. I apologise for the Alistair convo—I don't know if it's any good, but I get the feeling that something's missing.


	19. Chapter 19

_Chapter 19: Dreams  
><em>

_A/N: I have read through this again and it should read better than before! (I think. If you still find anything amiss, please let me know- yes?) As always, thanks for reading, and please comment, k? xD (Also, I apologise for the inconsistency of my line breaks, but I should start reminding myself to insert lines at the beginning and the end of each chapter.) Heh._

* * *

><p><em>The archdemon seemed to be more active now—the calls it made were a lot louder, and a lot more… seductive. Again, I found myself amongst the darkspawn, the horde that stood, mindless and hypnotized, drawn to that call. I wondered again how what was it the darkspawn heard—the same humming through their veins? The archdemon loomed ahead and the creatures snarled, perfectly aware of my foreignness—my intrusion—my own echoing blood that was in unison to theirs. Yet none of them moved to touch me, none of the clawed fists made to attack. They could see me clearly now, even as flames raged around us—they knew what I looked like. But it didn't matter—for <em>_it__ saw me, the malformed dragon that lay ahead, and it laughed, a screeching, awful noise. I was scared. There was nothing but death in that cry. I felt cold, hearing that shriek—made all the more sure that there would come a day when I would become one of these fiends, twisted and corrupted, and would create nothing but chaos, leave nothing but destruction in my wake—thirsting nothing but flesh and blood._

xOxOx

Daylen

I sat up and swallowed dryly, barely noticing the small flask that Kiera had stuffed into my hands—warm, almost a scalding hot—but warm, at the very least. I felt the feeling come back into my fingers. She then sat next to me, watching me intently and I saw that Alistair and Wynne were also awake. Groaning and kneading my forehead with the flask, I murmured, barely audibly. "Did… I scream again?"

Alistair glanced at me, and gave a brief smile, shaking his head. "No you didn't… I… woke up from a nightmare too. The archdemon eh?"

Wynne's piercing gaze seemed to see all my vulnerabilities. Her voice was quiet, and careful. "And I am on the same watch as Kiera."

I rubbed my eyes. "I… don't think I'll be able to sleep again tonight."

"Me neither." Alistair looked haunted as he sipped at his own flask of _something_.

I drank from my own, and it contained something surprisingly sweet and quite… Alcoholic? I glared at Kiera; I had not forgotten that she had tricked me into downing more than five mugs of ale the other night in Denerim. She only grinned; still saying nothing.

"You have wine in yours. Alistair's has whiskey." Wynne replied for her. "You can't hold your drink very well—hm?" I frowned groggily at Wynne. I wasn't in a particularly good mood.

Kiera got up and walked away. "Well it's already time for the second watch. I'll wake Leliana." Those were her only words to me. She seemed vaguely troubled by something, but I didn't even know how to begin to ask about it. At least Morrigan was already awake—she seemed so willing to keep watch with us all of a sudden, this was a first; for the whole time she had travelled with us, she had never once wanted to interact when we made camp.

xOxOx

_In the dark of the night—the little girl climbed onto the top bunk, settling down and watched the elder boy toss and turn in his sleep._

"_Bad dreams?" she asked, watching the boy get up blearily, almost falling over the railings of his top bunk._

"_You're in the male apprentices' room again." He said, not accusingly._

"_And you Fereldens appear to enjoy stating the obvious." She smirked, idly playing with a single lock of the almost-white waves that fell past her shoulders._

_Jowan (who had been asleep in the bottom bunk) was also awake, hastily throwing some robes over his smallclothes when he had spotted the little girl in the next bed. Unconcerned at their bare chests—she only watched them with a mild amusement that the other boy found extremely grating._

"_You're a weird girl, you know?" He muttered, absently mussing up his thick dark hair. She bit her lip, and seemed to be trying to understand his words._

_After a few long moments, she seemed to be enlightened. "Your point being?" She leaned slowly back on her hands._

"_Never mind." He grunted, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?" He looked around at the other apprentices. It was a while before he realized that they had all been bespelled by her— the victims of a massive sleep enchantment. "How much mana did you use for that?"_

_The side of the girl's mouth twitched. She stared back at him, unreadable._

_And yet, her request seemed simple enough. "I would like to borrow your notes."_

"_Of yesterday's class? But… you were there too." He squinted at her. She had been very diligent in class, much to the envy of the older apprentices._

_Jowan had understood what she wanted. "You want our notes from previous year's right?" He rummaged round the chest that stood at the foot of his bed and passed a stack of notebooks to her, much to the confusion of his sleepy friend._

"_Merci_ _beaucoup!" The young girl flipped through these eagerly, and he watched her curiously._

"_Notes from our past years. You know, of the spells that we had learnt more than a year ago." Jowan explained, also watching the girl's rapid progress._

"_Why do you want those? Did the Orlesians not teach you basic spells?" The boy mused, trying to get her back for the She only shrugged, it was her perennial answer to many a query—and he suspected that she was feigning ignorance. As usual. The little girl got off the empty bunk and began padding her way out of the room._

_He leapt off his top bunk, and pulled on some robes. The floors were impossibly chilly. "Where are you going?" He called after her, as Jowan followed closely behind._

_She didn't even turn around, still engrossed in the little notebooks. "Pratique—" She paused, searching for the right word. "Prac—Practice?" She quietly opened the doors, and slipped out, holding them open for the two boys scrambling after her._

"_All the classrooms and closets would no doubt be locked at this time of night—you know."_

"_Oui." She nodded. "But not for long." She grinned then, an enthralling combination of impishness and a girlish delight. Daylen relented and followed, sighing._

xOxOx

Sten

Third watch was the one before the sun rose, and I had had the misfortune to be stuck with the elf. We saw the Grey Warden nod off— he seemed to have been awake since the second watch.

The elf kept trying to engage me in conversation. "You'd think Grey Wardens would feel less inclined to sleep during a Blight."

"It is a wonder, I agree." Alistair—as his name was— had his eyes shut, and his breathing was regular. He was most definitely sound asleep.

"I am tempted to just toss something at him. Just in case he is feigning sleepiness. Or not. Perhaps I just feel like waking him up."

I naturally held my tongue. These were petty comments.

"What, you do not concur?" The elf turned to look at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Perhaps you are more preoccupied with your rivalry with him over the _other_ Grey Warden, rather than his duty as _a_ Grey Warden." The elf was silent at that. Good.

"You are surprisingly astute on this issue, my _qunari_ friend."

Receiving no reply, however, he continued to talk. Pashaara. "Perhaps you are also interested in my lovely _bella_?" He gestured to the tent, and his eyes held a protective gleam.

"Impossible. She is akin to a _Bas_ _Saarebas_— an unrestrained mage—even if she wears the armor of a warrior."

"Hmm. So you are not turned off by her physical appearance as a human? That is… interesting. Do you want me to put in a good word for you?" I give up. The elf was infuriating.

xOxOx

Kiera

The rest had gone on ahead, whilst Sten and I walked to the area just outside of the docks at Lake Calenhad, which was now a plain of yellowing grass—tall stalks that waved in the rising wind—cold gusts that blew around our heads. Winter was coming. The plains still bore signs of past battles; black-stained ground and untouched patches of the land showed through the ailing vegetation. Sten was gazing out at the mounds of earth, now slowly being covered by the grass. He turned to me, shook his head once, and walked away—in the direction of the rest of our party. Sten appeared genuinely depressed, but still buried it under quite so much… stolidity. Everyone in our band of merry comrades, save for Loki—seemed to be broken in some way. Sometimes I really worried about our chances with the Blight. No, not really. We were truly an awesome team. All we needed—was probably—maybe, a dwarf.

I caught up to the _qunari_, who was peering down at a man at the entrance to the Docks—rummaging through what appeared to be large _kossith_ bones. And shreds of clothing, and general refuse. It turns out that the man we were looking for was now in Ozarmmar. The filthy scavenger needed to pay. Making us search all over the place for him was getting old fast.

xOxOx

Daylen

We were at the figurative crossroads. Haven was such a distance away—such that it didn't seem logical to further delay our original motive of gaining the alliance of the dwarves, but there was still Eamon—and Alistair to think about. I hated being the leader. I get blamed no matter what I picked. Kiera made it better, somewhat. She had taken Sten in a duel, and won, but to be honest, I wondered if the _qunari_ went easy on her. Oh well. To Haven, then.

OxOxO

* * *

><p>P.S.: Hope you like it! Trying to give a little bit more backstory to Kiera and Daylen! Short chapter again, though. Sigh. Working on the next as I study for my exam on the 24th! Should be up soon!<p> 


	20. Chapter 20

_Chapter 20: Haven? I think not._

_A/N: Okay edits made and hopefully it's a little easier to read this time! As always, please comment when you're done! I love getting reviews! xD  
><em>

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

The whole village was very quiet—that is, until we were greeted by a lone guard, who seemed too eager to be rid of our lowlanders' presence to provide any more information about the place. Haven. The name itself echoed as a place of safety, a sanctuary. Looking around at the snow-covered ground, feeling the chill that ate through the armor—I was willing to bet that the founders were either rather loopy, or were being ironic. Daylen had mentioned that the people were something of cultists, and had showed me the book about dragon worship he had swiped from the fake Weylon. That certainly explained the mages and armored men who attacked us after we came upon the knight's body in the merchant's. Fanatics. Unfortunately, the ones we now faced were armed and very dangerous.

"Well I have to admit, I expected chains, but not the crazy women." Zevran whispered as he winked at me, and I hid a smile when Daylen eyed us mutely. He seemed to be always watching the two of us carefully—it was getting to be a little disturbing. We fought our way up the hill, where the rest of the town appeared to be in some kind of service. As usual, we took out the archers and mages first—Leliana was really good with her new bow, and I was glad that they had gotten that one off Marjolaine when they did; we had not come across any good weapons in a while. Alistair, Sten and I took the blows of the warriors, and although these people weren't as skilled as some that we had come across, they made up for it with a ferocious spirit. We were lucky to have gotten off with only a few scratches by the time we made it up the hill, coming upon the structure that housed their version of the Chantry. A man was leading the service; and as unfamiliar as I was with the usual Chantry service, I was pretty sure that something was very wrong with Haven's. For one, the man was a mage—the staff was a dead giveaway.

Alistair

We interrupted the service when we entered, but no one turned to acknowledge our presence. Why was the man leading the service wearing mage robes? Why were there no Templars? Did I hit my head on the way in? This was clearly not a part of the Chantry we knew and loved so much.

"…we are blessed beyond measure; we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to be Her guardians. This sacred duty is given to us alone; rejoice my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive Her." Was this a reference to Andraste? I don't particularly recall this part in the Chant that I had learnt. The man continued preaching to the people; unheeding of our advance.

"Lift up your voices, and despair no, for she will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her—" As we approached the crowd—I felt a distinct chill down my spine. These people were very creepy. Daylen was in a really bad mood, for he stomped right through the parting that the crowd had made for him, right up to the bearded man. Leliana and Kiera were close behind; they were very protective of him.

Daylen

The man had the cheek in asking if we had enjoyed our stay! I was so angry that I barely noticed the gold-lined Tevinter robes.

"Enough! We're well past pretending that this village is normal!" I was working myself into a rage, and I felt Kiera tense up next to me.

"Perhaps, but staying hidden means staying protected—and we must protect Haven and our charges at all costs." The man crossed his arms even as Kiera uncrossed hers. She was freeing her hands, expecting an impending battle. I did the same; I didn't like his holier-than-thou attitude. "We don't owe you any explanations for our actions. We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All would be forgiven." The man's reasoning appeared to be based on a blind faith. I had a feeling that this 'Her' wasn't the Andraste everyone else knew.

xOxOx

Kiera

As usual, there was a fight. And as usual, we won. But it wasn't particularly easy. Daylen had a deep wound on his arm that took some powerful magic to heal, and I was grateful for Wynne's presence. She had kept the profuse bleeding under control until it was safe to stop and patch everyone up. The man Eirik—as the rest called him, was a powerful mage, but these people weren't controlled by magic. They were infected by something more deadly and blinding—dogma.

I grabbed the strange medallion that had caught my eye off the dead mage, thinking that it would come in handy. Daylen and the others had gone ahead—and had found Brother Genitivi, barely conscious behind a false wall.

"Who are you? They… have they sent you to finish it—me?" The man croaked, the dry lips cracking. He was very weak. Wynne got to work, setting the man's broken leg, as Daylen distracted him with conversation.

"I'm Daylen. We're here to help."

Brother Genitivi tried to smile, even through the pain. "You don't know how glad I am to see someone who isn't from this village. I—" He broke off with a loud groan, as Wynne and I forced the jutting broken bones into their rightful positions. The foot had already begun to heal wrongly, and some of the man's toes had developed frostbite. It was a miracle that infection hadn't already set in. Still, he insisted on sitting upright, wanting to see the curative process; he was brave, for a scholar.

"You'll need a lot of rest in order for your foot to heal properly, Brother Genitivi." Daylen's voice was indeed very reassuring, and the man nodded gravely, even as he tried to stand.

"Thank you for your help and concern, but I don't have any time to rest now, I'm so close. The Urn is just up that mountain." The man was suicidal.

"How do you know?"

"My research led me to Haven… and I've heard the villagers talking. I know the Urn is there. Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it. The door is always locked, but I know what the key is." He made to hobble towards the door, but was blocked by Daylen. "Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door… I've seen what he does with it."

"Oh. You mean this medallion?" I held out the trinket that I had picked off the mage—and the man tried grabbing at it.

"Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside and I will show you."

"No. You need rest." Daylen appeared unmovable, and determined to keep Brother Genitivi from following us up the mountain.

Needing to make sure that the latter remained somewhere safe, Daylen looked around at the party.

"Sten, Morrigan and Wynne—could the three of you take Brother Genitivi to one of the empty houses? Kill everyone who gets in your way. We'll go on ahead." He paused, and petted Loki, who had on a bright blue scarf, knitted from the wool that he had found. "Loki, you too. Keep them safe."

I saw the scholar stare straight into Daylen's eyes, and knew that all he saw was a determined, unwavering man. Daylen could be quite stubborn when he put his mind to it. Brother Genitivi looked around at the impassive Sten, Morrigan and Wynne, before giving up and sighing heavily.

"Alright… but you have to tell me all the details about your journey. I… really would have liked to see it myself. Oh, by the way, the medallion that you have opens into a key that will fit into the indentation."

"We will. Kiera will write everything down in that notebook of hers." He smiled, not unkindly, and the four left, flanking poor Brother Genitivi.

"So, what, I'm now the appointed scribe for the journey?" I quipped, crossing my arms and tapping my fingers against an elbow.

Daylen smiled. "Oh right, you do have horrible handwriting. Maybe someone else wou—OW!" He ended with a grimace, when I smacked him on the head.

xOxOx

Alistair

There were an impossible number of steps laid into the slope, and I tried not to wheeze as we walked on for what seemed like an eternity—Kiera was keeping up with even Zevran, and she too was dressed in platemail. She then handed the medallion to Daylen, who was also a little bit winded by the time we had reached the large stone door that the good Brother had mentioned. The secret of the medallion was already unlocked, for both Leliana and the elf had figured out the way to twist it on the way up the mountain.

"It's like picking a really intricate lock, a fun puzzle," Leliana grinned as the door opened to reveal a hall, cast blue by the ice and midday light. The hall was huge, cavernous, and its end revealed many passages rooms that hid many more fiends and crazed cultists. Daylen seemed less tense now that it was just the few of us— and to my surprise, Kiera had noticed this too.

"So um… Why were you in such a bad mood?" She sidled up next to him, as both Leliana and Zevran began picking the locks on several chests, and looting their contents.

"I don't know what you are talking about." He said this mildly, as we continued on our way.

"Oh? Really? Perhaps a smack on the head will refresh your memory?" She muttered as we came upon an Ash Wraith. Maker, these things were hideous.

"I'll tell you later." Daylen froze the thing, and we went for it as hard as we could, trying to shatter it before it thawed. I wondered what it was that made him quite so incensed, noticing that his face tensed up when Kiera spoke of it to him. I hadn't seen him lose his temper since we left Ostagar, but it definitely was building. He had yelled at Duncan for killing Jory.

xOxOx

Leliana

The fireballs and freezing spells were definitely helpful in getting through the rooms—there were so many of the cultists that after a while, it started to get a little… mechanical as we came across small groups of them behind every other door. I worried about Daylen's silence, but it wasn't exactly the right time to talk, not when there were even little dragons to kill. Kiera kept glancing at him, and even I knew that she was concerned, but he kept moving steadily forward, the clenching of his jaw and crease in his brow worrying me to no end.

Kiera casted little heating auras on us as we moved from the rooms into the path through the caverns—the ugly thick wool was evidently not effective in the icy surroundings caused one to shiver most unbecomingly. Still Daylen continued, advancing and silent, and we kept up—killing our way to even more ruins.

Ugh. I hate this place.

Zevran

Our dear leader was really rushing headlong into more danger, as he ignored the signs of impending ambushes—luckily my _bella_ was close behind him, and she kept up the defensive spells that protected him from further harm. Something was bothering this Grey Warden; and was liable to get him killed. We came upon a cave that was simply filled with egg-like things, and I hoped that these would not hatch anytime in the near future, as wonderful as it is to see dragons like in the stories; these were a nuisance I'd rather not meet in battle again. But as the saying goes, wishing for things does not make it so— I forget the rest. Perhaps it is because of the beautiful girl who is at my side? Perhaps.

At any rate, the quick march we moved at made sure that we covered a lot of ground in the endless caverns, and Kiera abruptly grabbed our leader—if only to force him to stop for a short break. The strength that she had showed was quite impressive, as was in her fight with the _qunari_. Daylen had whirled around violently, but relented and sat down on the floor of the cave, before wordlessly drinking some water. It was a wonder that he had remained unscathed so far.

xOxOx

Daylen

Kiera collected more drake scales; she appeared to be addicted to looting every single thing we defeated— always finding more room in her pack to stuff her latest trophy. We came upon what appeared to be an ambush lying in wait, so we attacked from afar—Zevran and Leliana on bows, Kiera covering for Alistair when he moved forward to smite the powerful mage. What Kiera brought back after that with a most unsettling smile on her face was a longish, curved blade with Tevinter runes inscribed along its grip—_Spellweaver_. She handed it to me and her manner was almost childlike; she was so excited.

"Look what I found! Now you will have no excuse to not learn how to use a blade!" I sighed. "I'll teach you, okay?" I couldn't bear refuse that eager face, so I shrugged in reply—I'll probably make up some excuses later, but I suspected that Kiera was going to get her way, as usual.

The traps that were set up were easily disarmed by Leliana, who was a marvel at it, while the rest of us protected her by attacking from afar. We only had to stop once (other than the time when we rested), when Alistair had blundered into a tripwire, setting off two sharp blades that appeared from the walls, almost slicing him in two. Kiera had managed to shove him away from the deadly blades just in time, she had succeeded in stopping the blades too, but had cut her upper arm most severely in the process. The bone could be seen when we had removed the platemail, and I forced the flesh together before healing it—wincing as I saw her bite her own lip, causing that to bleed too. There was a faint scar when we had cleaned off the rest of the blood, but otherwise, Kiera was good as new.

Alistair was apologizing profusely, and Kiera waved her other arm at him, although still staring ruefully at the split in her platemail.

"It's okay, Alistair. Seriously, I should not have used my arm to block those. Well. You owe me new armor then!" Kiera smiled, and Alistair relaxed visibly, although he proceeded more cautiously than before. Zevran was in a black rage, muttering under his breath—no doubt about how Alistair was so clumsy. I wasn't going to get involved—I had my own relationship problems to deal with.

It was a while before we found ourselves climbing uphill again, and it was about time too—I was beginning to get some serious tunnel vision.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: I need to study. HAHA. okay this time for sure, I will not be posting anything in the next few days, at least until the 30th. xD<p> 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Lizard Worshippers

_A/N: So I'm done with my exams, been keeping this for awhile, will continue to upload the stuff I've written so far—after I've made edits and done a final read-through. Meanwhile, I hope you are still reading this! Thanks and please give me a review!_

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

After spending a really long time in the numerous caves, we finally appeared to be near the very top of the mountain— where the temple housing the Urn was located. The passageway had opened into a large, airy cavern and our party promptly headed for the other end, relieved that our quest for the Ashes was almost over. We were stopped by a shout from the mist that separated us from the opening exit—more of the dragon cultists, I presume. "Stop! You will go no further." The man stepped forward, and through the rising vapor, we saw a small band of burly men.

"Mind letting us pass? Or have you come to tell us more about Andraste perhaps—good Ser?" I knew my words were bordering on rude, but I was beyond caring. if we were to fight them, then so be it—my whole body yearned the feel of sunlight on my skin; spending almost a day in these unending tunnels felt terribly like being back at the Circle, enclosed on all sides.

The man crossed his impressively muscled arms. "No. You have defiled our temple. You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young." I didn't recall murdering any children on the way up—unless… Oh. Were they referring to the little dragonlings? Oops. "No more. You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?" His voice grew louder, more demanding.

"Um… We have come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes? Just a little pinch will do." I tried my most winsome smile, even as my face felt so very numb. If this idiot kept us from seeing actual daylight any longer… I gripped my staff tightly, feeling the fuzzy hint of weariness creep up my arm.

"You did all of this for an ancient relic? What mindlessness. Know this, stranger," the man paced away from us as his followers nodded most approvingly. Creepy. "The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned in a form more radiant than you can imagine!" He had turned dramatically, waving his hands, as we listened on in a shocked silence. Andraste was burned at the stake. We were all pretty sure that the centuries were enough to kill anyone, and make sure that they remained dead. "Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay her now! What hope do you have?" Thing is, we weren't out to kill Andraste, or whoever they were referring to.

I took a tiny step back, trying not to be too obvious about avoiding the man's spittle. "Yes…. I…see. Um… about the Ashes, are they still there, by any chance?"

The man frowned, his thick brows bunching together. "They are still within this temple, but why do we need ashes when we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?" He looked positively daft by the end of that sentence, his eyes blazed with an eerie light. Riiiight. We should get going. Now.

"So we might have the whole Urn instead?" I figured that it might as well come with us, having said magical properties and all that.

The man crossed his plated arms, absently touching his chin. "So you are after the Ashes. Hmm… perhaps there is a way for you to make up for your desecration of our home and temple."

I heard Kiera whisper next to me, "Desecr—Oh Maker—may we kill them now?" I could tell she wasn't joking—she was really impatient.

"I..." I began, but then I had a thought. "Could you be more specific? About how we can make up for our trespass here." I heard more muttering and shuffling as our little party got restless, but if we could avoid fighting the burly men now…

"Perhaps through Andraste's mercy, Her greatest enemy will become her greatest champion." I could just feel everyone's incredulous eyes on me. I know what I'm doing, alright?

"Just say what you have to say—and let us go?" I kept glancing at the sunshine that streamed in just beyond our reach.

The man's sonorous voice was starting to drone on and on. I was beginning to regret not fighting them from the start. "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Father Kolgrim. I lead the Disciples of Andraste. The Ashes you seek reside atop this mountain, watched by an immortal guardian who refuses to accept the truth of the risen Lady—"

"Your point being?" Kiera's voice was sharp, and the man all but jumped as he was interrupted.

"You will do this one small task for us, so that our Lady—"

"Get to the blasted quest thing that you want us to do already!" Kiera snapped, stepping forward and crossing her arms, visibly fuming.

"Er… take this vial of Andraste's blood and pour it into the Urn." The man was nervous, and finished, staring warily at Kiera, who was at her most threatening—she glowered quite impressively for someone that slender.

Everyone readied themselves—we knew where this was going. So much for not fighting, but we weren't going to defile Andraste's relics. "…That's it?" She asked, glancing at me, slowly relaxing her body.

"…And Andraste will be free— from the chains that bind her?" Maker, I almost laughed. Kiera had scared the cultists.

"The answer is no." With that, she drew her blades, and sprung forward onto the man, pinning him in the rush of speed. I gathered energy and sent fireballs at our enemy, Leliana's arrows were hitting their marks—and Zevran finished off two of the downed men. Alistair had also taken care of the mages—he was deadly with his smite-smash combo. It was really nice to have a Templar on our side for a change. Kiera cocked her head as she stood up from the Kolgrim's body, sheathing her swords and lifted the dead man's weapon, studying it.

"This will be a good gift for a dwarf—no?" She smiled; a wild spark in her eyes. The large double-handed axe looked deadly. And heavy.

"Yes, but I don't want to be the one who carries it back down the mountain. It looks like it weighs a lot." Kiera thought about it, and nodded, laying it aside. "We'll get it when we come back this way again later then." I rolled my eyes—she was persistent.

Alistair

The High Dragon was huge—way bigger than anything we had ever encountered; it flew overhead, the sheer mass blocked out the sun and the gusts from the flapping of its wings buffeted us badly. I was awestruck, and instinctively moved next to Kiera; who was staring up at it and appeared to be judging its length. She had held up her hands in comparison, muttering softly under her breath; and I was reminded of how stupid I was to have caused her injury—the platemail on her arm was pretty much ruined and gaped glaringly, her bare skin could be seen. I was satisfied to see that Zevran was very much disturbed at the sight of the dragon, although he was still standing too close to Kiera.

"Think the archdemon's about this size?" Daylen whispered when the dragon appeared to settle down to rest—its eyes had closed and its dank breath wafted through the area, and I noticed that he had moved to stand in front of Leliana rather protectively. The two of them looked quite cute together.

"Hmm? It's about the same. Archdemon's probably a bit bigger—old god and all that." Kiera answered, still watching the creature intently. A gleam crept into her eyes, almost appraising the beast. It was quite unsettling.

"Well… we'd better proceed on with caution—a fight with that thing would most likely end quite terribly for us." Daylen tore his gaze from the bulk, moving forward with Leliana close behind. I followed, as did Kiera and Zevran; her sudden question startling us all.

"Do you think—if we do kill it—that there'd be enough scales to fit all of us? You know—armor." Her question was innocent enough, but it entailed so much… craziness that Daylen stopped and turned to gawk at her.

"You're mad. You want to fight that thing now? It's HUGE." He had trouble keeping his voice low.

To everyone's relief, Kiera only shrugged and walked ahead, away from the dragon. "Yeah… I guess you're right. We could always come back later. It'd take ages to skin."

There was a long pause as the words sank in. "Sometimes, and I think I say it for all of us, but you scare me, Kiera." Daylen muttered darkly as we followed behind. I saw the elf hide a smirk, and I think I agree with him on that—Kiera might be scary, but it was also sort of what made her… exciting.

xOxOx

Kiera

_You told me that anything was possible, that all I had to do was fight—to strain against the chains that hold me down. I had no one else, and the darkness that surrounded me before threatened to cover all I saw. The darkness enveloped within itself—and I was blinded._

He spoke—the thing that wore his shape spoke; words that no one else would have known, in the rich tones that were his voice. No, it wasn't him. It couldn't be. I answered as best as I could, and it deemed that I had indeed moved on, and had let go of the past—the mistakes, the regrets, I knew I didn't want to look back.

_You came along, and I found that my eyes were open, and I could see again. You were my guiding star, as I picked my way past deadly crevices—you were all I had. I believed in you as you believed in me, and now that you aren't with me, I will have to light my own way._

And yet these words echoed in my head as we crossed the stone floor—the cold flagstones that would lead us to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I had written them in one of the books that Marc had given me—books that detailed blood magic and its dark rituals. He probably had no idea of the contents; these had been written in Ancient Tevinter, but I thought he'd appreciate that I'd left them behind for him to find, and maybe destroy.

_Maybe one day I won't have to fight, maybe one day this war will end;_

_Maybe one day I'll find the future will, and put this heart to mend._

I realized now that I might have been flattering myself—that a Templar like him would never have kept anything from a blood mage like me, but I'd wanted him to have something of mine, the words that I had scribbled in invisible ink. He had taught me how to make that ink—only visible when held to heat, and I wanted to show him that I remembered. I remembered everything.

_Maybe my own light will lead me to the endless cliffs and barren plains, maybe my light will fail. Maybe my little light will draw me back—to the ones who love me still._

But now that he was gone, and I was only reminded of this foolishness by the manifestation that had been most startling—it had seemed to be Marc, and it had looked so sadly at me. I now knew that the tan leather tomes had gotten him killed— had labeled him an accomplice; knowledge that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I knew that I could not ever risk anyone else like that—especially not another Templar (and I suppose, one day a King); I glanced at Alistair when we created the stone bridge. I had to try and let him go, for his own safety.

Zevran

Kiera seemed most distressed after meeting that last apparition that had taken the form of her friend—whom I presumed was already deceased, judging by her crestfallen face. She claimed to have already let him go, but I knew that it had moved her heart—she was barely attending whilst we fought the copies of ourselves. These… duplicates of the three Grey Wardens were also ridiculously hard to defeat. I saw Leliana—the red-haired girl look worriedly at my _bella_, but we both remained silent, to bring it up this soon would be extremely… impolite.

Daylen

With no small amount of relief we had arrived at the Gauntlet's final trial; and after reading the inscription on the pedestal, Kiera immediately took off her armor and her undergarments— leaving only her smallclothes. The act itself was without warning, and although the rest of us did our best not to look, I inadvertently saw Kiera's bare torso; the scars on her back and front were faint, but some of them stretched inches, a few curved wickedly, forming a myriad of proof—that she had had been through a lot since the Circle. I caught the rest staring at her too, their eyes trailing her slender body; noting the faint marks. A couple looked to have been deep gouges, now-healed—but still hinted at the pain that was forever scored into her fair skin.

She walked through the blazing fire without a second thought; before we could recollect our senses—and the Guardian stepped forward, acknowledging that she had indeed passed the last test.

Kiera's only reaction to that was to pull on her undershirt and walk up the steps to the Urn, scooping the Ashes and slipping them into a small felt pouch. She then strode back to us, and Kiera handed the pouch to me, and began putting on the rest of her platemail. I couldn't stop watching her—marveling at her—wondering of her experiences. Part of me wanted to ask her about the scars; but that part of me was also afraid of the stories she might tell.

xOxOx

Alistair

I was shocked to say the least, but watching Kiera during the Gauntlet really made it clear how much of her was kept hidden from view, secret from prying public eyes. She had evidently wanted it so, but the apparition that had called her name—the figure brought up so many memories; and I realized that I had seen him, and by extension, I had met Kiera years ago, before the Blight. She wasn't called Kiera then.

Leaving the temple, we found the High Dragon waiting for us, eyeing our exit with a beady, uncomfortable interest. Leliana and Zevran both drew their bows, also unsettled by the attention that our little party was getting, whilst Daylen and Kiera were preparing to cast up something so large that the back of my neck itched with the feel of such strong magic.

Sure enough, the monster swooped down upon us, and landed heavily in the space that we had vacated, scattered in our haste. Zevran and Leliana fired their arrows at it, and I tried smiting it—only to have the energy resisted so thoroughly that I realized that I had nothing else to do but to engage the beast directly. The two mages had already finished casting—and successfully encased the dragon's claws in a thick layer of ice. Kiera was approaching the drake on its flank, trying not to draw attention to herself; and from that one image, I knew my role in this fight. I was to distract the beast from her—by any means necessary. I put up my shield and charged at the fiend.

* * *

><p><em>P.S.: Hope you like it! Dragon fight's next!<em>


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Slaying the Dragon

_A/N: I got the idea for slaying the dragon from Riordan's epic jump off Fort Drakon, and I've always wanted a Warden like that, one who could live up to the glorious tales of old. Heh. Mary-Sue moment._

* * *

><p>Leliana<p>

My quiver of ammunition was rapidly depleting—the arrows were hitting our huge, fire-breathing target but seemed to hurt it no more than the pin pricks they appeared to be, barely sticking into its tough hide. Alistair had rushed the beast, and had narrowly avoided being cooked by rolling to the side as the flames the creature released in that breath seared everything in its path. He appeared to be creating a distraction for Kiera, whose swift approach to its side was as clear as the dimming rays of the sun. Daylen continued to cast ice spells at the dragon, but he maintained his distance from us, it was quite out of character. When Zevran and I were out of arrows, we too drew our blades went to help Alistair, who was barely dodging the fireballs.

Daylen's distance and slowed spell casting was justified when he abruptly waved us further back, signaling furiously. Both Alistair and I started moving away at his signal, but Zevran had ended up being caught in the dragon's claw at the very last moment when Kiera took a leap off one of the ruins—landing, on the dragon's back, stabbing her swords deep into the flesh. Its furious movements, with Zevran still clasped in its claw—made it impossible for us to approach. The three of us stood there agape as she balanced precariously, gaining still more distance, higher on its neck—even as the dragon thrashed around in pain, its feet still frozen to the ground. I was horrified when we saw the fiend twist, unloosing Zevran in its panic, reaching round— trying to claw Kiera off its back. Daylen ran immediately to him, whilst Alistair and I felt all but helpless, faced with an inability to really support either party.

Daylen

Zevran was breathing, but only barely, and I hurriedly tried to remove his leather armour, doing my best to attempt to the bones properly, when Leliana came over to help. She had unbuckled the straps in double-quick time, her nimbleness something I would never match up to. We finally managed to get Zevran's torn torso bared, when the elf coughed, barely lucid as he whispered Kiera's name.

"Don't try to talk, Zev. She's fine. You're not. So shut up." I muttered, first sending the elf to sleep before continuing with the healing process. Any more ragged breathing would almost certainly rupture the remaining tissue in his lungs, and would complicate my job even further. Leliana held out the bottles of lyrium that I had been saving up since the foot of the mountain; I just knew that someone would get badly injured, and without Wynne around, healing was my primary priority. Soon, the ribs were mending fine, and I began to regrow flesh over the now-cleaned wounds. I forced my power into the gashes, willing them to close and reform, despite the gaping damage, continually swigging mana potions in my haste. I was beginning to see double by the time I had fixed his chest; the four bottles of lyrium were especially potent.

Leliana and I heaved a sigh of relief as the elf's breathing became even, when we both heard a loud roar, and the huge tremor that followed was an indication of Kiera's triumph over the fire-breathing beast.

Alistair

Kiera had slew the thing—that creature—by drawing both blades along its exposed underbelly when it had flipped onto its back, trying its very best to claw at her destructive casting and slashing. When the tremendous twitching had finally stopped, _she_ fell, toppling off the bloody carcass that was left of the High Dragon. I raced forward and caught her (okay it was more like she fell on me), and I saw that her eyes were vacant, even as she staggered to her feet, and then away from me, to the crouched Daylen and Leliana. She was cradling an arm, no doubt injured by that fall. I sincerely hoped that when we fought the archdemon, the battle was not going to be much tougher than this.

I followed her, and watched as she knelt next to them; impatiently casting minor stasis spells on the bleeding wounds and some enchantments that sped the healing process, all the while muttering in Orlesian. Her spells allowed us to move Zevran to the cave, and after what felt like a millennia, both mages finally appeared to have his injuries fully healed; Kiera falling back onto the cold ground with a sigh. Daylen rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and Leliana covered the elf with multiple blankets, forcing some brandy past his bluish lips.

xOxOx

Alistair

"Yay. And no blood magic this time." Kiera sounded weak as she stood up; and I saw that she was still keeping her right arm curiously close to her, turning so that Daylen would not notice. I hoped she was okay, but she seemed otherwise fine. It was then that we realized that it was past dusk; and too late for us to make our way down the mountain.

We were to spend the night up here in the freezing cold, the temperature dropped further even though we had already shifted ourselves to the enclosed safety of the mountain cave. Daylen and I set up the tents in silence, none of us spoke, we were all so tired. Suddenly, Kiera drew her swords and pointed them at the dark—staring past the flickering reach of the firelight.

"Who's there—show yourself," her words were tight with pain. She really needed to check up on that arm.

"'Tis only us." Morrigan's voice came out of the dark, and I understood Kiera's wariness, I felt the same way towards that witch.

"Oh. Hello. Sorry we took so long." Kiera seemed sheepish, and let fall her blades, sinking onto the ground in exhaustion. Loki burst out of the shadows, barreling into her. She tried to fend off his attack of adoration, but still seemed to be unable to lift her right arm. I approached the rest of our party members, wanting Wynne to take a look at Kiera.

"You are hurt." A voice rumbled out of the darkness, and Sten's imposing figure loomed over Kiera, as Loki drew away from her, out of his way. The _qunari _looked closely at her small frame and grasped both her shoulders. He made one hard movement, and Kiera unloosed a sharp cry that stabbed right through me—which was then followed by a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Sten."

"You are foolish to have left the dislocated shoulder alone."

"I know—but I didn't know how quite to fix it. And it hurt so bad—" Kiera sounded weak as she sat upright, grimacing as she no doubt felt the aching in her worn muscles.

"How strong are human teeth?" Sten wondered, before continuing when all we could do was to stare, agape. "Next time, you should bite down on some leather first. I could help you—"

"Er… that's okay. I think I know now how to deal with another—"

"You will need a hard surface—and some leverage. It will be better for someone else to assist you."

"I'll… think about it. Thanks anyway." She winced as she stretched the affected arm, before soothing herself with yet another spell. She appeared to have a large mana reserve. Walking over to the still-unconscious elf, Kiera sat down with a sigh. She and I took first watch, with Wynne. I guess it was of no small surprise to anyone (least of all me) when Kiera nodded off, and she leant her head against me.

xOxOx

Wynne

The elf was stirring, his movements were small and tentative as the blood no doubt rushed to his extremities. "The only thing that truly saved you is your slight build." I spoke as I watched his cautious movements.

Zevran barely glanced up at me before replying. "You mean that if I were as large as a human, I would most probably have perished?"

"Yes, that is most likely."

"Ah. You see, my darling Wynne, size is indeed, not everything— unless of course, we are talking about your bosom. Which is a most marvelous bosom."

"I am not having this conversation." I huffed and sat away from him, and silence pervaded.

"Do you think if it would be better—for me to… bow out— as you people say?" Zevran's voice was soft, and seemed almost unsure, a rare thing thus far.

"You are referring to—Kiera and Alistair?" I noticed that he was gazing over at them, his face emotionless and voice somber.

"Yes. She and he—are rather attached to each other. He comforts her where I cannot." I looked over at the pair, who weren't seated very far away—she had fallen asleep, leaning against his back. They did look very peaceful together, if only for the moment.

"You would just—leave them be? That seems… out of character."

Zevran struggled to sit up, and did so, without any help. "Oh my dear Wynne, I am not such a hard-hearted person. I can see that Kiera feels a lot for our chantry boy, even as she tries so desperately to distance herself from him. They barely speak to each other, but they never lose touch with the other's thoughts."

"And they are both Grey Wardens— one day their duty will come into conflict with their feelings. That is why—"

"That is why you interfered in Daylen's relationship with Leliana?" I admit that the elf was perceptive; the boy would not have told anyone else of our conversation on the matter.

"I…" When it was put quite like that… "Yes. That is why. It is for their own good that—" Even I thought it sounded quite mean.

"You are a cruel woman, to be attempting such _intrigues_ amongst the Grey Wardens." The elf paused, and gazed at the still-sleeping Kiera and Alistair. "This might be the only time that they can be happy."

"But there will come a day when they will have to part, and this will hurt the other." I sounded so defensive.

Zevran continued, smiling as he turned his eyes on me. "And that is something that they will have to deal with, on their own. You gave your _opinion_—and no one will let _that_ stand in the way of true _love_."

As miffed as I was, he was… most probably right. "You sound… most experienced."

"In my line of work, we avoid emotional attachment, but sometimes—it is inevitable." He lay back down after that, pulling the sheets over his face.

I watched Alistair and Kiera for a little while longer, before walking over to Sten, who was to be taking the second watch with Morrigan. I was glad that we had left Brother Genitivi with Bodahn and Sandal, our journey back up the mountain was not uneventful.

xOxOx

* * *

><p><em>P.S.: So… Hope you enjoyed reading! Please leave a review when you're done, I'll work on the rest of the chapters, hopefully I will finish this fic by the end of next week xD<em>

_Thanks for reading!_


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: A Previous Encounter

_A/N: Am in the process of playing Sims 3 and Dragon Age again, so forgive me if I stop every now and then to clear my sleep debt (also accumulated from studying for the exams)—but I'll definitely be updating almost every day! xD_

* * *

><p><em>The boy stomped off in a fury through the pouring rain, and splashed around in the dirt, which was gaining a silt-like consistency. He didn't want anyone to come near him, not the Arl, not the servants, not anyone. No one cared what he wanted—they just wanted him to go, away from here, to the chantry. And become a Templar. The boy kicked around in the now sludgy pool that was growing in size, and the mixture seemed to suck at his feet, pulling at him, like everything else here—things that tugged at him, demanding his attention, even yelling at him; when all he wanted to do was to go outside and play. Well it was the final night before he would be sent to the Chantry at Denerim, and he would jolly well do as he pleased. No one seemed to care where he was, at this point—the Arlessa was pregnant, and everyone now fawned over her. This meant that the boy was frequently left alone. Well it wasn't like he wasn't lonely before all of this, either. He never had many friends. He snuck out of the castle grounds, hiding in the shadows where possible—wanting to see the last of the village where he had spent most of his childhood watching other children play. The only children who would even talk to him were the servants', but recently, they too had begun to avoid him. He didn't know exactly why.<em>

_The rain still came down in sheets as the boy made his way to the ridge that overlooked Redcliffe village, he could barely see past his outstretched hands. He had slipped and fell on a particularly slippery stone, and felt sure that the impact had bruised, if not broken, something in his butt. Was there a buttbone? He didn't know; he hadn't paid much attention to these things in lessons but… Maker, whatever it was, it hurt. He remained on the ridge—he was drenched anyway—and when the rain stopped, he tried to wring out the excess water from his shirt._

_When that didn't work very well, he sat on the cliff, hoping that he'd catch a nasty cold in the icy night air, perhaps postponing his entering the Chantry. If that didn't work; he sort-of hoped that he would spread it to the other initiates in the Chantry, and maybe they would send him straight back out of sheer frustration. Or anywhere else, for that matter—there wasn't going to be space for him at Redcliffe, what with the new baby on the way. He wasn't welcome there anymore. He shivered as the wind picked up, but he was glad he had come out here—the village looked so peaceful from this distance, not to mention that this particular spot was upwind of the constant stench of fish._

_A sudden noise had startled him, and the boy almost slipped from his precarious perch, but somehow the ground had solidified, and was no longer mushy beneath his grimy feet. He felt something tug his shirt sleeve, and he turned to find a small girl clutching at his arm._

"_I wasn't going to fall… I was just—" He searched for the words to excuse his clumsiness, but failed as the girl's gaze seemed to pierce through him. She had long golden hair, and it seemed to reflect the moonlight, glimmering in a halo about her delicate face. The boy was almost sure that she was Andraste herself but for the faint humor in her large sapphire eyes—there was a wicked, impish gleam._

"_You're wet. Were you caught in the rain?" The boy heard those accented words and he knew that she was Orlesian. She sounded like Isolde._

"_I happen to like the rain, thank you very much." He huffed as he turned his back on her. He didn't really like Orlesians. They were mean._

"_You're welcome. Me too. The rain is… chilling." Her silvery voice tinkled and those innocent words were free from any sarcasm, so much so that the boy couldn't help but look at her again._

"_You mean… 'cooling'?" Her use of the common tongue was quite interesting._

"_Ah. Yes, that." She settled down next to him and the both of them sat there, their legs hanging over the edge of the cliff. The boy caught himself staring at the lovely girl, and he struggled to look away._

"_You're… Orlesian?" The girl nodded, a little bob of assent, saying nothing. The boy wondered at her, and her strange green dress, when he sneezed, directly at her face._

_He saw her wince as he covered his still-dripping nose. He was mortified, but speechless. She drew a handkerchief from her sleeve, but instead of cleaning herself, she proffered it to him, rubbing her clothed arm over the affected area._

"_I'm…sorry." Maker's breath— he had proven himself to be a clumsy idiot. And disgusting to boot._

"_No it's… fine. Can't be any dirtier than the mud you're covered in." To his immense relief, the girl actually smiled, and didn't scuttle away like others would. He nodded miserably in reply, too mortified to even speak._

"_You're going to be… ill. Too breezy. And you are soaked. Here, this should keep you warm." All those that fell from those lips were words of genuine concern, and for a moment, the boy felt like he was in love. She was perfect. She had held out her hands, and he moved to take them, when he yelped in pain. He looked down, and saw that her hands were holding balls of fire. She was a mage._

"_C__é__leste." A man's gruff voice called from behind them, and the girl extinguished the flames, getting quickly to her feet. He was in shiny platemail, with the signature crest of a sword— a Templar. She spoke rapidly to the towering Templar in Orlesian, and all the boy could do was to stare at them, confused. The girl __then __turned back to him and hastily casted a healing spell, soothing his reddened palms. _

_"I'm so sorry about this, __I should have warned you.__ Marc says I never do things by halves." It was then the little girl saw that look in Alistair's eyes and nodded, not denying it, or apologetic. She was a mage._

_The girl left with the man, who had asked him about boats to the Tower that stood in the middle of Lake Calenhad. They were to leave in the morning, Alistair heard. The boy remained seated and shivered in the moonlight. Mage or not, she was pretty. He wondered if he would ever see her again.  
><em>

xOxOx

Daylen

We left the mountain with our prizes; the Ashes, the dragon scales and yes, even the battleaxe. Much to Kiera's delight, Sten carried these without another word and we were soon on our way to Redcliffe. Brother Genitivi rode with Bodahn and Sandal, munching heartily on some bread and cheese as he sat at the back of the cart. Zevran had to be persuaded to take a break from the march—the blood loss from the day before was rather severe. To my surprise, Kiera had made a potion for him. It was the one thing that she was hopeless in—mixing any poultice or poison of any kind, Jowan usually swapped hers for his own, only because those that she made were either overpowering or plain wrong. She had once created such a strong acid that we were evacuated from the classrooms for a day—the Senior Mages had to try and stop the spread of burning liquid before it ate its way through floors that had withstood centuries. Kiera was then banned from touching any of those ingredients without supervision, much to her embarrassment.

"Hey Zev, drink this." The elf looked up when he heard her voice. He was awfully quiet today.

"Ooh. What does it do? Is it alcoholic?" He asked, taking the bottle of dark liquid from her.

"It's something to strengthen your blood, it aids in replenishing." Kiera had grinned a little too widely, and I wished fervently that Zevran had the presence of mind to refuse. Wynne was also watching the pair with no small amount of amusement.

But the elf sipped the mixture before commenting on its taste. I was relieved that he didn't explode, or something equally nasty. "It's… tangy. How curious. Is this a product of one of your feminine arts? Perhaps a sedative to knock me out— so that you might have your way with me?" He waggled his eyebrows at her, and Kiera hiccoughed.

"Um… well it's something I learnt as a female—I take it too. Every month or so." She winked at the flabbergasted assassin and I rather think he swore, albeit good-naturedly.

"_Ti amo ma mi farai morire_," he muttered. Even I hoped Kiera was probably only half-kidding. I couldn't really tell.

Kiera

I noticed that Alistair seemed to be lost in thought, but whenever I looked over at him, I caught him looking away rather bashfully, barely meeting my gaze. Was there something in my hair? Did I get another hole in this armor—or worse still, did I get hit by pigeon crap? I caught up to him when he looked away yet another time and spoke, my face just inches from his as he tried to sneak another peek.

"I demand to know why it is you've been looking so hard at me. It's the ponytail, right? I knew I should've retied the bun." But I liked the way my hair swished when we marched; it was getting too thick for a nice, neat bun.

"Uh… N-no, it's not. It's just… Your name isn't Kiera, right? At least, that wasn't your name when we first met."

"When we first met? Wasn't it just a few weeks ago?" I knew of the name, but perhaps a diversion was necessary—I didn't want to relive that.

"We met a long time back. I was covered in mud. And drenched from the rain."

"Really?" I stopped to think. It was fuzzy, but I remembered something like that.

"You gave me your hankie, remember? I sneezed at you."

Then, it hit me. Alistair was that muddy little boy from all those years ago. How… strange that we had met again, after such a long time. "Oh. Yes I think I remember now. You almost fell."

He scowled mockingly. "I did not, and even if I did, you startled me. Anyway, you were called something else by that Templar; Celeste, was it?"

I stopped short, and found myself rooted to the ground. Everyone turned to stare at us. Overhearing our conversation, Leliana gasped, exclaiming, "Céleste? I knew that there was a reason why you looked so much like the Empress! You're the lost princ—!" She bit back that last syllable when she saw the look on my face. I felt almost betrayed, but I knew it wasn't their fault.

It was just really hard to hear that name now—not when I had almost forgotten it, after all these years. Not when the last person to call me by that was Marc. It was never really 'me', never really who I was. I am Kiera, not some Princess— that I never was. Daylen saw my distress, and called for a break. I could really use one; I was close to hyperventilating.

xOxOx

* * *

><p><em>P.S.: Haha I decided to stop here, seemed like a good place to stop, together with Daylen. XD<em>

_One more before Redcliffe, and then we have our troupe of favourite people stomping off to Ozammar. Target—4 to 5 chapters at the dwarven kingdom, before we head back to Redcliffe (another chapter?), and then we have Landsmeet and the final couple of sections. So yes, I think we're all set for this story to meet its conclusion soon!_

_"Ti amo ma mi farai morire" – I got Cibiripilli to translate for me; "I love you, but you'll be the death of me."—Thanks!_


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24:_ Princess C__é__leste_

A/N: It's 2am in Singapore—and I have to sleep; if there are stupid errors and stuffs I'll change them when I get back tomorrow afternoon! Please read and review, as always!

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

"_C__é__leste. It is a most charming name, one that carries connotations of heaven. They chose well—it is… fitting."_

"_Humph. Rather ironic that she'd turn out to be a mage then?"_

"_That is not her fault."_

"_She put the Empress in disgrace. Many blame her nonetheless."_

_I had hid in a cupboard when I heard footsteps approach, and I shivered uncontrollably, trying to be as quiet as I could, not to be found out—and smited. Most Templars were touchy about mages being out at night; I thought I was quiet enough, but the two who were talking outside the cupboard knew—and yanked open the doors. I shriveled into a ball, covering my eyes. I knew that they had seen me, but still I hoped that they would go away._

"_It's only me, dear girl. Marc." That voice was familiar, but I looked up, still expecting to be smited. It was Marc, and he was smiling, offering me a hand. What was it that he wanted?_

"_Just drag her out. We don't have all night to be standing in front of a cupboard." The other Templar seemed to have pits for eyes, filled with so much darkness. My eyes flicked back and forth between them—and I decided to trust Marc. He was nice. I scrambled out of the wooden cabinet, and stood off to the side, expecting punishment. I didn't expect the gentle touch on my hair which was loose about my shoulders, nor the words that came next._

"_You see, Hugues? This is proof that she is her mother's daughter. Not even Princess Celene has such; the true colour of the Imperial line." I glanced at Marc, wondering what he meant. Did I have a mother somewhere? Was she part of the Imperial family? That… explained why no one else would talk to me._

"_Does it matter? She'll never be considered for the throne. A mage is a mage is a mage, and nothing will change that." The other Templar closed the doors to the cupboard and eyed me, and I shivered again, fear furling at the back of my spine. He had the most knife-like stare. "Off to bed with you, your Imperial Highness. Go." I scampered away, fleeing the Templars, mind filled with nothing but questions._

_All I knew, as I lay in bed— all that I could think about was how I had had a family, and my mother was the Empress who I had stared at, each night by the fire. How she had left me here—and had not looked back. I didn't want to be C__é__leste. I didn't have a mother—or a family. I was nobody's child._

"Kiera? Are you feeling better?" Something— a voice, called me back to reality, and I looked up into a most welcome image—Alistair. I smiled and nodded, and we were on our way again, idly listening to the party's banter; these things kept my mind away from the heinous past.

Alistair

I was sorry that I had pushed her that far—I didn't know that Kiera would react quite so badly to a mention of that name. I moved next to her, and although she seemed barely registering my presence, I decided to stay close—hoping that she was fine.

There was still something I wanted to know, and I approached Zevran, who had begun walking with us, instead of staying on the cart with Brother Genitivi. "Zevran… do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

The reply was swift, but I expected that. "You may ask, but I may choose not to answer."

"Fair enough. Have you... had very many women in your time? I mean... you seem like the sort of man who would..." I didn't know how to put it—it seemed awkward to talk about it this openly. Luckily, no one seemed to notice our conversation, Daylen was trying to cheer Kiera up, but to no avail.

"I have indulged from time to time, perhaps, when my interest is not elsewhere." Zevran glanced at me, and I saw that he had a gleam in his eyes, but I decided to press on.

I really wanted to learn something—anything that would stop me from saying, or doing stupid things—especially in front of _her_. "Right. Well, how do you... woo them? Is there a... technique? Or..."

"'Woo them?' Are you quite serious?" I expected the surprise, but it was still a little embarrassing.

"Er... yes? I don't know what else to call it." I was raised in a Chantry—_it_ was understandable, right?

A smile of derision curled on the elf's lips. "So let me get this straight. You have... never wooed? Not once? You are woo-less, as it were?" His voice was more incredulous than mocking but… I didn't like it. Never mind.

"All right. Bad idea. Never mind." Maybe Daylen had some experience in this area? He had known Kiera the longest.

Daylen

And so we were attacked again, set upon by darkspawn— Kiera had barely time to warn us before Alistair and I felt their presence in the surrounding area. She was certainly very distracted, but she made up for it by seamlessly weaving in and out of the small pack of them, drawing her blade clean across several, and ending the battle with a flourish when she slayed their leader—a spellcasting Hurlock.

Kiera had called it an emissary, shoving its limp body off her blade with her look of distaste. She seemed marginally better. The small troupe was decimated in mere minutes, Kiera had killed close to ten of the monsters in the time it took the rest of us to slay the rest.

"Nothing like a small brush with death to clear your head—eh?" I called, over the carcasses.

She flashed me a tiny smile and winked. "That's another good thing about being a Grey Warden. You can kill as many things as you want, and not be judged for it. Well… only if those things are darkspawn, I suppose."

Saying this, Kiera cleaned her blades and fell back to her position in the march, at the very back of the party. She was immediately drawn into conversation with Alistair, who had this earnest look about him, if still a little hesitant about earlier. I could have kicked him when he brought up her past—but I knew that I had made that same mistake a few times myself—at the Circle.

She had not reacted very well then either.

xOxOx

Kiera

Dusk met us all too soon, and we made camp against a sheer rock face, using it as a shield against attacks from that direction. Everyone was in a jovial mood, and seeing Leliana and Daylen walk away for some quiet time made me just a little bit… envious. What Wynne said was indeed right, Grey Wardens had duty ahead of them which took precedence above all else, but I wanted Daylen to be happy—at least right now.

Maker only knows what else we had in our future. I even felt myself smile, looking over the fire, it was a good time to be alive— despite the Blight. Daylen and Leliana were taking first shift, and everyone else turned in early, even if we weren't particularly tired. We all knew when to make ourselves scarce when we weren't wanted.

I was a little shocked when Alistair scrambled into my tent—I had been avoiding him when we made camp, he'd no doubt wanted to talk about then, that memory, the past—Marc. I didn't want to.

"Hey, sorry for barging in like this, but you're not going to bed just yet, right?" I couldn't resist those russet eyes. That and I didn't want to send him back out there—the noises we heard sounded suspiciously like snogging. Oh Leliana.

I scooted further into the tent to give Alistair some room. I only just realised how muscular he was—that shirt looked rather… fitting on those wide shoulders. "No… I'm not. So… Things are going really well between the two of them yes?" Some small talk, no big deal—yet.

He grinned—that mabari-like grin that was so adorable… Ugh. I needed to focus, especially when he was sitting right in front of me. "He's making a move all right—that and Leliana was getting a bit impatient. She practically grabbed him."

We laughed and easy, comfortable warmth filled the tent. I was glad for Daylen, and glad that Alistair was here, but it was a little bizarre to be with him in such close quarters. "So… why are you here instead of your own tent—hmm?"

"Brother Genitivi has my tent. I figured that I'd find someone to share with." Alistair's voice was light—he seemed to be joking, but I couldn't read him, I was too busy doing some blushing of my own.

"With me? Aren't we being a little presumptuous?" I cleared my throat, wishing that my cheeks didn't burn so.

"Are you going to kick me out now?" That grin lingered as he made himself comfortable, those brown eyes twinkling. He had me there—and judging from the sounds outside the tent, Alistair was going to spoil the mood for the lovey-dovey couple. Decisions.

"I guess we can sit up and chat. You share Daylen's tent later."

"Wouldn't have it any other way. Anyway I already asked Daylen. He's sleeping in Leliana's." Alistair had the nerve to chuckle as I gave him a dirty look. "I wouldn't want to mortify your modesty, my dear lady. I'll just stay until… they're decent."

I glanced away, and rummaged through my pack. I had something to give him—the warrior statuette that I had found (and cleaned, mind you) from a pile of mysterious goop in the mountain. "Here, you collect these, right?"

Alistair seemed disconcerted, and I wondered why—he took the gift with both hands, and looked down at it for a long while. "You know—Daylen told me that when _you_ give people gifts… it means you like them."

"He told you that?" I felt vaguely annoyed. Daylen had no business to go about telling people things about me, let alone to Alistair. "I… suppose it is rather true. I think. Do you want me to stop?" Maybe he found it weird.

Alistair began to stutter. "What? No— I mean—I like getting gifts from you—wait that came out wrong—er…" I couldn't help it, he was so cute when he blustered—I let slip giggles, after losing the battle to keep my face straight. He eyed my amusement with a broadening smile and sighed, "I'll never be able to live this down, am I?"

"Perhaps after a few days. Hold still." I took out my journal— and began sketching Alistair; this was definitely a memory I wanted to keep, even for a little while longer. I'll even add in a note about Daylen and Leliana—those two were really a little loud.

Maybe we should consider setting our tents a tad further away from them next time.

"Kiera…" Something in Alistair's voice made me look up. "All this time we've spent together—I know it's not a very long time, but—you know the constant brushes with death, battles and the whole business about the Blight looming over us… will you miss it when it's over?"

I didn't even need to stop and think about it. "Miss the constant battles? Or miss you?" This was a moot question.

He blushed, but didn't look away. I was caught in those sincere eyes, held in thrall. "I know this might sound… well… inappropriate— after what we agreed upon in Denerim, but I want you to know—that I have come to care for you, a great deal. I mean we've been through so much together, and I really don't want to wait till we reach Redcliffe—but… I don't know. Maybe I'm thinking too much of what I feel around you. Maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe I'm fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might still— feel the same way about me?"

I was a little overwhelmed, but I nodded, unable to help it. "I still do—and you know it."

A smile curled on those lips and he whispered whilst leaning forward, "So I managed to fool you—then?" And then for a moment thoughts flashed through my mind, how Alistair was probably intended for the Ferelden throne and a Templar and—and suddenly when those lips met my own, nothing else seemed to matter.

We were the only two people in the world.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: I end here, on a happy note! Hope you liked it, I know I enjoyed writing it xD<p> 


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Keeping Watch as Wardens

A/N: Redcliffe, as I promised. Sigh it's going a lot slower than I expected. Anyways, please read and review!

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

When it was time for second watch, I left Leliana and went to get Alistair—but I discovered that he wasn't in my tent. He wasn't with Brother Genitivi either—and that alarmed me. I knew that he wouldn't be sharing with Sten or Zevran. Panicking, I'm ashamed to say that I thought that he had been taken by the darkspawn—I went to tell Kiera; with her having been a Warden longer I figured she'd be able to track him.

Nothing prepared me for the sight of Alistair, sitting up blearily when I opened the flaps of Kiera's tent. At least he was clothed. I crossed my arms; the two of them had some explaining to do.

"It's time for my watch, I take it?" He had the cheek to grin at me as he exited the tent. Kiera seemed to be still sleeping soundly; Alistair had covered her with another blanket before he'd left.

"Wait. You need to explain—why you were in her tent." I had crossed my arms—faintly annoyed at this turn of events. Did he take advantage of her?

He yawned at me, "In the morning, dear leader—you go get some sleep in _Leliana's tent_." I flushed at that, but at least _we_ were open about it, not to mention that this was Kiera whom we were talking about, not me.

"Fine. I'll let you two get your stories straight, but I'll deal with you tomorrow." I turned and slipped into Leliana's tent—and she was already sound asleep.

Alistair

It was a little… strange for Daylen to come upon us quite like that—and displaying his brotherly concern for Kiera. She was the first person who had ever made me feel wanted—like only I mattered above all else; and I was grateful. We were coming upon Redcliffe soon, and as much as I was trying to avoid thinking it; Eamon was most likely going to separate us.

He was livid when I had come back out of that storm all those years ago, drenched and going on about some pretty _girl mage_. He had called mages a danger, to others who weren't like _them_, and were all desperate for a chance to change their lot in life.

We now have four mages in our party, with the exception of a certain _one_, I was sure that they'd prove Eamon wrong. Maybe he'd change his mind because of Connor? Dear Maker, I hope this was so—I wasn't about to give _her_ up, not for anyone.

OxOxO

Kiera

Redcliffe seemed to be doing well—the villagers were going about with their lives, children were playing, the people were settling down again. A tenseness was in the air; a mild tightness that pervaded their actions; men were still dressed in armor, no doubt ready to fight the Blight—if the horde were headed in this direction. As much as Alistair wanted me to go along with him and Daylen to the Caslte, I was a little hesitant.

The Ashes would no doubt work—they had to, after all the trouble we had getting to them—and they would work without my presence. I would join them later, after we had gotten the supplies we needed for the even longer trek to Ozammar.

Zevran and Morrigan had opted to remain with Bodahn at the campsite just outside the village; I got the feeling that Zevran was unhappy. Perhaps he was homesick? I'll have to look around for something to cheer him up. Morrigan was studying the Grimoire that Daylen had given her—the one that we had looted that from the Tower, as it had happened to be one that belonged to her mother. How perfectly coincidental.

Leliana and Wynne were in charge of getting our supplies, while Sten and I were going to barter the weapons that we had got; looking for the blacksmith who had been in charge of repairs on weapons and armor the last we were here. Perhaps some minor repairs could be done on my armor before we got to Denerim, where Wade was sure to have a way to mend the split on my right gauntlet.

The man had a way with platemail.

"Miss, it'd be better if you get a whole new set—if you're one of them folks who gotta wear a full set when ya go to battle… I might be able to close the gaping rip we have here, but I promise nothing though." The man was surprisingly sober this time, and he had agreed to make the minor repairs to my armor. I left it there, and changed into a dress his daughter had provided. It was a little tight in some parts, but it was better than meeting the Arl in my underclothes. Sten was glaring at the dwarf—Dwyn; watching the latter with a snarl.

"Something the matter?" I stood next to the _qunari_, taking in the same sight as he. Sten remained silent. Nothing seemed to be out of place, unless you counted the strange, two-handed blade the dwarf was wielding with much difficulty.

There was a reason why dwarves stuck to axes and shortswords. The blade was a good two inches longer than the dwarf was tall, and of a very unique make.

Perhaps this was Asala? Seeing Sten's brooding fury, I walked over to the man, blocking his downward swing with my own blades. A tremendous 'clang' ensued and the dwarf growled, no doubt most annoyed at my interruption.

"Excuse my manners, but that blade—" I began, hoping to settle this before Sten began a massacre.

"Don't stand in my way woman, or you'll be in pieces soon enough." The dwarf dismissed me, turning away with a snort.

"I just want to enquire about that blade you wield. It is rather distinctive, yet very strange. I have never seen another quite like it." Perhaps the man would respond to flattery?

Sten seemed to cover the ten yards or so with a single stride. I all but jumped when he spoke. "It is Asala—my blade. You scavenged it, near Lake Calenhad."

"I did no such thing. Bought it off some human fair and square when I left Ozammar. He's probably still there now."The dwarf swung the blade behind him protectively. I could feel the waves of rage just roll off Sten and I knew that we had to solve this as soon as possible. A bloodbath should be avoided whenever possible.

"Still… Might I perhaps… buy it off you then? My companion believes that it is his blade, and not the human's to sell."

"Too bad. It's now not for sale. Humph." The dwarf was beginning to get on my nerves as he turned his back again on me. I didn't really want it to come to this but…

I pressed the sharp edge of my blade to his neck, just pricking his skin, whilst pointing the other at his bodyguards, who were slow to react. A bead of blood was drawn as I applied some pressure; my urgency for peace making my own blood rush.

"Perhaps a trade then? I do have a nice battleaxe you could look at." I said as sweetly as I could.

To my amazement, the dwarf persisted in testing our patience. "Look lady, I collect weapons, and this blade happens to be one that's too rare to—" He gulped down the rest of his words as Sten stepped closer to us, the shadow his great height casted was simply marvelous.

"Pashaara. Perhaps a duel will solve this?" His lilac eyes glinted as he too drew his sword.

I didn't flinch, but the dwarf was beginning to shake. Some warrior. "Too much work, don't you think? We should just make a lesson out of them. What do you think, Sten? Death? Or humiliation?" I grinned at my companion, and an unpleasant smile formed on his thin lips.

"For what purpose?" I think we were beginning to rub off on the _qunari_. He usually wasn't one for such bluffing.

"How about… 'Never stand between a _qunari_ and his blade.' That— or for underestimating an armed woman; as well as pissing off a couple of worn-out and extremely frustrated travelers. Let it henceforth be known that we had asked nicely." I could think of a few ways to do this, all of which were rather amusing.

"Perhaps they would choose death instead?" The _qunari_ mused; his voice low and ominous.

"Good point. Would you do the honors?" I shoved the dwarf in Sten's direction.

Dwyn gulped and raised his hands in a truce.

"Wait, wait—fine, I'll agree to a trade. Let's see that axe." Sten handed it to him, and received Asala in return. I was sure that the emotion on Sten's face was joy, as difficult as it was to tell. "I suppose it'll have to do. It's no _qunari_ weapon, however." The dwarf muttered as he appraised the battleaxe.

"Just tell people that it was wrested from the cold dead fingers of a crazed, bloodthirsty dragon cultist. It's a pretty good story."

We walked away from the village; almost triumphantly, for Sten's movements seemed to be much lighter than before. This was barely noticeable, but the happiness was definitely there.

xOxOx

Daylen

Kiera joined us just as Isolde was recounting past events to the Arl, who seemed very relieved, if still a little groggy, at the whole affair. Alistair seemed to be extremely distracted by Kiera's absence, he kept glancing at the great doors to the main hall, barely attending to the Arl. When she finally walked in through that entrance, we were all stunned— to say the least— at her appearance.

She was wearing a dress—not robes, but an actual dress, and those dull colours actually set off her fine complexion and fair hair even more. Alistair and I were gaping at her— much less the Arl and his brother— although Isolde seemed to be more affected than most; for she seemed close to tears.

"I see the Ashes worked." Kiera mused as she nodded at the Arl, coming to a stop next to a still-gaping Alistair.

"Ah—Eamon, this is Kiera. She's… We're…"Alistair began and Kiera's eyes flicked to him before looking away, seeming to be more than a little alarmed.

The Arl then appeared to sweep over whatever Alistair had to say— and began listing his plans for the Landsmeet, where he intended to raise Alistair as King. Alistair could only gawk as the rest of his life was planned out for him; the Grey Wardens' needs all but mowed over in the name of Ferelden's throne.

I caught Kiera rolling her eyes at the way Eamon went on, barely containing her growing annoyance for Alistair's sake. The latter seemed overwhelmed at the end of the speech, and could only follow us mutely before he too was stopped by Bann Teagan.

"Alistair… Eamon wishes that you and Daylen, as well as your… companion stay here at the Castle tonight— by way of saying thanks." Kiera seemed eager to leave, but one look at Alistair's pleading face made her change her mind.

"What about the rest? Do we leave our other comrades in the cold?" She asked pointedly, at the red-haired nobleman.

"Ah… yes, the invitation is extended to them—not to worry. I will get the men to inform your friends." Saying this, he looked as if to flee, keen to leave our company.

The servants showed us our rooms, and the two of us went straight to Kiera's. She was seated on the bed and had looked up at us when we entered, but I realized that the two needed to be left alone, they evidently had much to discuss.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Redcliffe is taking longer than expected, and I know that the quest for Sten's sword will take you to Ozammar first—but I've decided to just go ahead and bully it off the poor dwarf. That said, hope you are still reading – and are enjoying the story so far!<p> 


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: A moment in Redcliffe

A/N: Okay, so I promised some yelling, and there is quite a bit of that here. *spoilers* There will be more when the party reach Redcliffe again.

* * *

><p>Alistair<p>

Daylen had left with just a cursory 'goodnight', leaving Kiera and I alone. She was sitting on her bed in her nightshirt—brushing out her gleaming, unloosed hair, and she looked up as I closed the door. I sat next to her, searching for the right words to say when she spoke for me.

"Well, at least Eamon's made his intentions clear." Kiera's tone was mild, but it gave me the chills. She seemed to be more than a little upset.

"Y-yes. I—do you think we should tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Kiera was done brushing, and slipped her pale, bare legs under the sheets. Her hair obscured my view of her face, but I knew that it was purposefully calm; I didn't have much experience with women, but something told me she wasn't quite as blatant in revealing what she felt.

"About—us. You know, that—I mean, the fact that we're together…" I wasn't brought up to treat matters of the heart lightly, and I knew she felt more than what she let slip. Even as I knew that I was being impossibly childish, I wanted her to say _it_ before I did …

"Eamon doesn't need to know that, does he?" Kiera hooked her hair behind her ear and met my gaze levelly. Her blue eyes were gentle, inviting—no longer as closed off as before. Yet a glimmer of something—(doubt?) hinted at her similar disconcertion. "We're both consenting adults, and—very much… attracted to each other."

So she was avoiding that word too—well at least she didn't protest about us being _together_.

I nodded in agreement, and was rewarded with a smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was good enough. Kiera still seemed to be distracted by her thoughts, but I was glad that she hadn't yelled at me. I wanted to yell at me. Eamon had seemed to be more focused on the succession than the Blight, and I had said nothing to remind him that I was a Grey Warden; Daylen did that, and had been quickly rebuffed.

The Landsmeet seemed to be far more important to him than the threat of the archdemon. Sigh.

Kiera had lain back onto the sheets and pillows, fanning her hair out luxuriously, and I got off the bed. Her soft, silvery tone stopped me when I reached the door. "Leaving already?"

Was she proposing—wow. I hadn't really expected that. "You're… going to bed right? I shouldn't—"

She didn't allow me to finish that sentence, observing lightly, "It's a large bed to sleep in, Alistair."

"Now who's the one stating the obvious?" I grinned, recalling all the times she had accused Daylen and I of the same.

"You really want to go?" Kiera had propped herself up on an elbow, eyeing me carefully.

_Maker_, she wasn't trying to be subtle, and I felt just the little bit flattered. "No, not really."

And there really was space enough for the two of us.

XOxOx

Kiera

I could see that Alistair was tired, confused and divided on the issue; this was his country after all, and the bloodline of King Maric would be needed to stabilize it in the face of the oncoming civil war with Loghain. And yet, as a Senior Warden of Ferelden, his duty was with the Blight—and that should come before all else.

His breathing soon evened—but I lay awake, watching over him as he slept. I wasn't tired at all—thoughts kept swimming around in my head. For one, this Eamon was being selfish; he wasn't even going to ask Alistair for his opinion, and I suspected that this had been the case when the latter had been staying here as a child.

The larger problem here was the way he had expected the Grey Wardens to just support his political machinations at this Landsmeet; Grey Wardens were supposed to keep out of such conflicts, we were an order on our own.

Inevitably, even in Orlais, the Wardens were drawn into such nuisances, but to have someone just _anticipate_ our support and _demand_ such things to our faces—this was something new. Fereldan nobles were much ruder than I had expected.

Alistair had seemed more concerned about _us_, this tentative relationship that we had found ourselves; complicated and yet simple, an attraction that would no doubt _inspire_ more mistrust for the Ferelden Grey Wardens and their cause. I too was conflicted.

I wanted to remain at his side—I wanted him to continue wanting this—wanting me; the easy, uncomplicated feelings that _he_ showed, giving me hope beyond anything I could have imagined. He was like none other.

xOxOx

_The girl had done it—young or no, she had escaped from the Tower, fleeing from the sword that would no doubt fall upon her friends, it drew closer the longer she remained. From Orlais they would come, bearing down upon those she loved—searching for a maleficar. The letter said so, it had been written in Marc's hand, a warning to her, for her to run. The Templars would show no mercy, and would no doubt slaughter all that were in their way; a veritable Exalted March upon the 'powerful blood mage' they had deemed that she was._

_They would name her Ferelden friends to be under the influence which only maleficar could wield, an excuse to invade, the aim, to 'cleanse' this dog nation's Chantry. This was thus the reason she ran, escaping to Orlais, the last place they would look; so that Daylen would be safe. She had one-upped the Templars, yet she didn't go to him—no she couldn't, not to Marc. He'd face the same, if not worse—he was a Templar and that act would be treason. She had kept hidden, journeying far from Val Royeaux, searching for sanctuary._

_Ferelden had been nothing but a brief excursion— this, the girl kept telling herself. She had gone immediately to the Grey Wardens in Orlais; for theirs was a power that the Holy Divine had no sway over, they were defenders of the innocent. They had not welcomed her with open arms, but had taken her in out of pure pity—and she had worked hard to prove her own place amongst them. It was a relief when they finally allowed her to Join the Order. She had fought to get to where she was, and was no longer answerable to anyone—not a Templar, not a priest, not her blood. But she was just a single one. She was always alone._

xOxOx

Leliana

Daylen and I awoke to no small amount of disturbance; angry shouts seemed to be coming from the Arl's study—we crept downstairs and witnessed a most angry situation, the nobleman seemed to be arguing with his wife while Alistair and Kiera remained silent. Isolde was furious as she berated this Eamon; calling him a hypocrite when he blustered.

The fact that the Arl did not raise his voice at the woman made it clear that he loved her very much indeed; and all of us present knew that she was making use of this knowledge shamelessly as she argued for Alistair and Kiera.

"How can you look at them and accuse _her_ of making use of Alistair? Is it because of _Therin_ blood? Or because she carries in her a bloodline that flows all the way back to _Drakon_? Emperor Florian has abdicated and Celene is on the throne, Eamon— this child is the furthest person in line to rule in the Orlesian Empire! You of all people should know this; your Ferelden is not under _threat_ through the two of them continuing such relations—"

She had paused to breathe, and the Arl took the opportunity to state his concerns.

"I am well aware of that, Isolde, all I mean to say is that it will be most unfavourable for the two to remain so… attached to the other when we present Alistair at the Landsmeet—the nobles will see it as another 'Orlesian plot'— as Loghain will no doubt—" This apparently was the wrong thing to say.

"You are a hypocrite. _You_ know that _nothing_ is further from the _truth _than that, and to force them to go along with your—schemes—regardless of their affections, and it is plain _selfish_. She might have Imperial blood, but that should not bother any _Fereldan_. Your King Maric was much more prolific in his sowing."

The woman's voice grew cold as she regarded the wilting Eamon. She had taken a most protective stance, standing between the Arl and Kiera, crossing her arms firmly.

"So what if everyone else thinks that it is a devious plot by Orlais? Take a good long look at them—Eamon, _she_ saved Connor, while you praise that _other_ mage, _she_ remains silent even though it was _her_ suggestion to bring the Circle of Magi to Redcliffe. Do you not see that they are very much in love? Do you not see that we were once in their very situation? Do you not see that the future of _both_ our countries might very well lie in the _union_ of the two of them?"

Th Arl tried to speak again, and frankly, I pitied him. The man simply did not know when to give in. "Isolde—_she_ heralds from—"

"The Orlesian Imperial family, yes—but let me tell you one thing, if you want to talk about your precious bloodlines; _she_ is still an Imperial _Princess_ by virtue of her parents, Florian and Éléonore—and is no lesser than Alistair. In fact, she is more than a good match for him; he is an illegitimate heir, while _her_ only failing is that she's a _mage_."

Isolde's manner grew positively icy as she drew in a pained breath, her eyes narrowing. "Unless… you detest that word so much—_mage_?"

"I do not—especially since I know that Connor is one." The Arl's voice was hollow as he breathed a sigh of defeat, and even Daylen seemed most impressed by the Arlessa's tirade.

Alistair and Kiera were shifting uncomfortably throughout the whole affair, mostly stunned at the intensity of the Isolde's passionate outburst.

Arl Eamon had slumped in his high-backed chair, and Isolde quickly dismissed our companions; presumably before Eamon would get his strength back up again. They all but fled from the study, and we slipped out into the courtyard, where the rest of our party were waiting. It was a most exciting, and enlightening encounter.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Phew. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Thanks, and please review! xD<p> 


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27: To Orzammar it is!

A/N: Whew. And so we are in the Deep Roads. Finally. Please review when you're done, okay?

* * *

><p>"<em>Maker's breath, where'd you learn to do that?" The boy hissed as his gaping wound knitted together, aided by magic, and left a faint scar on his upper arm. He had barely dodged out of the trajectory of boulders that were flying around in the classroom, scraping his arm during the split second he entered the room.<em>

_The girl, seemingly satisfied with the healing, shrugged and turned away, intent on her study. He struggled to his feet and peered over her shoulder; he had gotten taller lately, shooting up every week or so. His robes no longer fit him very well, always his ankles showed—even as the Tranquil struggled to keep up with this growth spurt. The girl was also tall for her age, a tender nine year-old, and already she had mastered the spell to summon and wield large boulders—from mere books borrowed from the First Enchanter. He looked ruefully at the stained split in the sleeve of his robes, yet somewhat happy that he had left Jowan snoring soundly in the dormitory._

_The nightly sessions were indeed helping both of them along in their studies; both were top of their class, much to the envy of many, but Daylen's real motive was to know more about the Orlesian mage. She rarely gave away anything about her past, except that she hated the Circle in Orlais. She said that her name was Kiera, and she answered to it, but her slight hesitations when the instructors called on her made him sure that it wasn't the real one._

"_Hey, anyone ever told you that not replying to a direct question is impossibly rude?" He clapped a hand upon the girl's shoulder and a force flung him backwards; it seemed that a blaze of light had hit him extremely hard—and now he felt something wet trickle down the back of his head. He blinked, and in an instant, Kiera was upon him, casting small frantic spells of healing, all the while muttering apologies. Her pale face seemed even paler, glowing by the light of her manifested will. He felt like all his mana was sapped, and even though he knew that to be impossible—he could barely move his own fingers. It felt too similar to a smite from a Templar._

_She was a powerful mage, and any tender feeling he had had towards her was dissipating quickly. She was too dangerous, and too tetchy._

xOxOx

Daylen

I finally remembered what I wanted to say to Kiera. "I dreamt of you last night."

We were traversing the Deep Roads, trying our very best to unearth someone that the very best of Bhelen's men could not. To think that Grey Wardens were reduced to performing menial labor, we appeared to be servants of the whole sodding world and its (no offense to Loki) dog. Alistair and Kiera were now inseparable; they slept next to each other even when they took different watches.

I wasn't one to comment though; Leliana and I were similarly attached, and every day, when I woke up next to her, I thanked that she hadn't already tired of me.

"Was it a nice dream?" Zevran quipped, raising an eyebrow. Kiera and Alistair were busy with a shriek, tearing it apart before it did the same to them.

"It wasn't, not particularly. It's more like a memory, I guess. Kiera had ripped my robes in the middle of the night, and the before I knew what was going on, the only thing I saw was that she was standing over me." The elf chuckled when he heard that—I had purposely made it sound quite scandalous.

Kiera glared meaningly at me, as Alistair grinned. They had gotten to a point in their relationship where he was perfectly at ease with such banter, whilst she grew increasingly uncomfortable.

"I remember. I had to call one of the Senior Enchanters to help with your wounds. They made me do cleaning for the Tranquil for five days."

"What's so bad about cleaning?" Leliana asked innocently when we began walking further into the thaig. I coughed to hide my spreading grin.

Kiera wasn't so amused. "Imagine doing smallclothes laundry for 50 mages and Templars. Without magic."

"And you refused to speak to me for a fortnight. It's not like it was entirely my fault."

"If you hadn't crept up on me—I wouldn't have done that. So… why'd you bring this up now?" Kiera turned to look at me.

"I want to know what that spell was. It seemed useful."

"Oh… Well I could teach you that, but only when we make camp. We'll need a space away from everyone else—especially other mages." That sounded ominous, but I wanted to learn that one—it appeared to be quite useful against emissaries.

xOxOx

Kiera

We couldn't tell what time it was without daylight, but we settled down to rest anyway, the journey through these tunnels was draining. Oghren had turned out to be quite the warrior, despite being constantly drunk and giving off alcoholic fumes whenever he breathed.

"The dwarf smells worse than Loki does on his bad days." Daylen muttered as Oghren's snores echoed faintly underground.

"He's hilarious though." I was writing in my journal, anxious to keep my mind off the grisly fate that would no doubt bring us back here for our Calling. To walk into the dark, dying alone, fighting off hordes before ultimately losing out to the taint. I shuddered inwardly.

Daylen's voice was dark, and I think he was also affected by our depressing, closed in surroundings. "Well you said you wanted a dwarf in the party—we've got _him_. Be careful what you wish for indeed."

I sighed. "We've all got our flaws, Daylen…"

"I know… I was just kidding."

"He's an extremely devoted husband; he only wants to find his wife." It was kind of sad to watch him, sometimes; he looked incredibly wistful when we discussed Branka. I saw a man who was lost without her, and was desperate, willing to fight anything, to find his loved one.

"Is that wise though? From what we've heard, this Branka seems to be a little touched in the head. How's she going to help?"

"We need a Paragon to end the ridiculous scrambling in Orzammar's Assembly. If we can find another one of those, then we'll see…" I finally finished my drawing of Oghren— his beard now satisfactorily completed, turning the page and began another project entirely.

There was silence for awhile; Daylen seemed lost in thought, before he came over and sat next to me and the sleeping Alistair.

"Kiera, it just occurred me; we haven't taken the same watch for quite a long time."

"Mmm… that's quite true." I continued scribbling—the tunnels were numerous.

Daylen's voice was flat, accusatory. "You're not listening again."

"Are too! Believe it or not, I can multitask, you know."

"Hmph. What are you doing—exactly?" He squinted over my shoulder at my work.

"Mapping our progress so far in the Deep Roads—never know when a spare map might come in handy."

I heard an exasperated sigh. "Is it going to take long?"

"Why? You so desperately need my undivided attentions?"

"I've been thinking…" A solemn tone surfaced in his words. I wondered what it was that made him so perplexed.

"Ah... Any secrets of the universe you want to share with little old me?"

Daylen remained silent, and when I turned to him, I saw that he was giving me a very dirty look. Heh.

"Sorry." I scribbled some more before closing my journal. I was going to have to get a new one soon; I was reaching the final pages of the leather tome. "Okay, I'm done. What is it?"

He took a deep breath before continuing. I could see the worry in that crease on his brow. "You and Alistair. Eamon and Isolde. What are you going to do when we go back to Redcliffe? As compelling as Isolde was, the Arl didn't seem very convinced."

"I… don't really know what I'm doing. I really really like Alistair—Daylen, but…" My voice was hushed, in order not to wake the man who was still sound asleep, by my side.

"Kiera…" Daylen groaned.

"I know, I know. He's meant to be King, and he can't do that with me around."

"That's… not what I meant. Your feelings are plain, and no one else should affect what you want to do."

"Kind of how you dealt with what Wynne said?"

He snorted at that. "You got _that_ talk too?"

"Yeah." She had tried to talk me out of continuing my relationship with Alistair. Can't say I was surprised, but she gave up rather quickly, all things considered. We had once timed her nagging the apprentices, and it was longer than a whole two hours. Daylen cast his eyes over to the sleeping mage, frowning.

I began keeping my things."She's sort of right, you know. Grey Warden duty and all that. It's a massive responsibility for us, and we can't just ignore it." I wondered how the Orlesians dealt with it—oh right, they didn't have to worry about the Blight in their lands.

"Problem is, Daylen, Ferelden needs a King. I'm sure this Anora is a fine ruler, but a monarch by blood would make sure that the Grey Wardens' claim for support troops in this Blight was indisputable. Alistair will make a good King. Far better than some, I imagine."

Daylen turned back at me. "Is this— why we chose to support Bhelen? Because he's the dwarven King's son?" I admit, he was unpopular, but Prince Bhelen seemed promising as a leader, as compared to Harrowmont, one so mired in the restraints of traditions.

"Only partly. And I'm also curious to see how this will all play out for their future."

He seemed conflicted still. "Kiera, he killed his siblings for the throne." As did most rulers. Successions were a brutal business.

"Bhelen also aims to change the way the dwarven caste system binds his people." Daylen looked away, thinking, as I continued my explanation. "Unless you think that birth should determine one's fate, to be chained to one's blood—quite as mercilessly as mages are? We didn't choose to be born this way."

"Aren't Grey Wardens supposed to stay out of politics though?" It was a good point. I was specifically warned against that when I left the Orlesian Warden compound.

"We are, but even Duncan did it—by making Alistair a Grey Warden."

"You blame him?" Daylen had raised an eyebrow, staring at me.

I realized just what my words had sounded like. "What? No! I simply meant—"

Daylen smiled slyly."That circumstances sometimes change for the better… because of meddling?" So this was what he had wanted me to admit.

I nodded, sighing. "Yes."

"And so we get to the root of the matter. Having selfish thoughts eh?" He laughed long and low, trying not to wake the rest of our party. I fumed. Daylen rarely ever got the best of me.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: The spell that Daylen wants to learn is Mana Clash.<p>

I really want Orzammar to be finished post-haste. Oh well… Press on! Thanks for reading!


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Spelunking isn't very fun.

A/N: More Ozarmmar stuff. Well only one more chapter before we see daylight again! I promise!

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

"GAH I HATE THIS PLACE." I hated the rock that surround on all sides, I hated the stupid spiders that kept ambushing us in the dim light, I also hated the way we couldn't tell day from night.

I wanted sunlight, fresh air, a place that didn't make me feel so… itchy. The taint gave off a tingling sensation every waking moment; and it was _under_ my skin, something I couldn't scratch at, something I couldn't magick away. Caridin's Cross wasn't endless, and it was simply _filled_ with little beasties, short little _things_ with mouths for faces, not to mention several large bands of darkspawn.

Kiera's maps made it so that we avoided retracing our steps as much as possible, and we soon came upon a new area entirely, as directed by Oghren.

"By the tits of my ancestors, Ortan Thaig. I never thought I'd see this place in the flesh." The dwarf walked forward, still muttering. "I can see Branka all over his place. She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel—check their composition."

He turned to Kiera, addressing her. "If she was still here though, she'd have sent sentries out by now."

"I see… Well, let's keep going then." The dwarf nodded, and we walked onwards into the semi-darkness.

Kiera

As we continued through the tunnels, battling spiders along the way, we saw an ogre, apparently fighting off the huge spiders which had nested everywhere in the caves. Needless to say, we merely watched, waiting for one to finish off the other, a fight which will weaken our remaining target for an early death. After the ogre fell, the eight-legged creatures turned upon a group of nearby darkspawn; who were to share the same fate as their oversized comrade.

This was a fine opportunity to exploit, so I motioned the party back to avoid notice by the fighting creatures.

"Glad to see that _some_ foul things do not like other foul things." Alistair's voice was unexpectedly close. I peeked sideways at him; at that masculine visage I had grown accustomed to waking up with each day and I felt safe, now that he was always by my side.

The spiders had noticed our presence when they had dispatched the pitiful genlocks, and diverted their attention towards us; giving us the signal to charge. Alistair flashed his trademark grin and dashed forward, using his shield as a battering ram, stunning the whole group of them. It was easy pickings for the rest of us and we did so in unison; while Daylen barely had time to even raise his staff. Ha.

xOxOx

Daylen

The large caverns in which we found ourselves were quickly becoming a lot creepier; more darkspawn seemed to inhabit these expanses, hiding behind protruding rocks—no doubt setting traps. Kiera had diverted us away from the worst of these, which were thankfully not directly in the path of our goal—the dwarven Paragon.

Alistair and I also felt these groups—the common taint that we shared drew our attention to their presence, but not as acutely, or as precisely as hers. Kiera must be having a worse time underground— my own blood was pulsing through my veins with each darkspawn I sensed.

"I think I might just burn everything that has more than four legs from now on," I panted as the final spider crumpled into a ball. There were so many of these beasts in the caverns—and we had to come upon the one who was their queen, with her larger than life fangs and abdomen. It had managed to give us the run around, and would have escaped just before we landed the final blow, if not for Leliana's good aim—a single arrow pierced that huge underbelly, and a rain of guts exploded over us.

Now, about half our party (not including Oghren, who always needed one) desperately needed a bath.

Kiera had already wandered away, calling us over, she stood over some books that were laid in the corner. It seemed to be someone's journal. Perhaps it had belonged to this Branka. Leliana read aloud the words, and they were strangely haunting, boding of the evil that lay ahead.

"We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil… if we find it." She took in a breath, glancing at Kiera before continuing.

"I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him… No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell."

"Do you think… that this Branka is dead?" Leliana murmured, her eyes flicking over to the dwarf, who was swigging from that skin of alcohol he seemed to carry everywhere. Sten was annoyed at his constant state of inebriation, but none of us wanted to stop him. We all felt like we needed a stiff drink too, in order to keep going in these tunnels.

"I don't know… but it seems that we have to check these Dead Trenches."

"They say whole herds of darkspawn nest down there," Oghren commented. "But if that's where Branka is, then that's where I'm going, too." Kiera smiled wanly at him, before leading the party forward. She had started to take the lead ever since Alistair and I had led us through several darkspawn ambushes, from which we had barely survived.

Wynne and Morrigan had insisted that someone else take charge.

xOxOx

Kiera

_Walking into the Deep Trenches, however, we saw chasms that contained the glow of the molten lava, and something drew me to them, irresistibly. As I peered over the edge, I saw the horde, masses of darkspawn that far exceeded any initial estimations, this was what we had to deal with in the event of the Blight; hurlocks, genlocks, emissaries, ogres—all of whom will work together to tear the world apart. Compared with our numbers; the three of us in Ferelden—we were severely outnumbered, but I knew we weren't going to fail. We only had to defeat the one. The archdemon._

Daylen

_The archdemon flew up, and we saw its wingspan, matching those of the High Dragon we had met on the mountain. Kiera was right—it was a little bit bigger than that one and I hoped that the horde had not yet noticed us, that the archdemon couldn't sense us, not now. We couldn't fight it now. It was suicidal. The darkspawn growled, howled but we heard nothing, I was sure. Alistair, Kiera and I were participating in this too, called by that song, that thing that haunted our sleep. It was hard; to remain calm, to fight that rising hysteria that only foretold death and ruin. But we did. The three of us. At least there were three._

Alistair

_To our relief, it left, the archdemon had seemed to direct the horde forward with its blasts of purple flame. The song was indeed alluring, it promised everything that chaos had to offer—death upon all others, rule over others, nothing but bloodlust drove these beings. I instinctively sought out my sword, and gripped it tightly; a little nervous at the sheer numbers that we would be expected to fight. I stood back, unwilling to continue staring at the impossible odds the darkspawn had. Kiera had watched the horde, longer that Daylen did, and when she finally stood up, she seemed distracted, as all of us were._

"So that is the archdemon, which you'll have to defeat to end the Blight." Sten noted in his gravelly voice. The _qunari_ had a talent for unsettling everyone, speaking when we least expected it. Kiera had barely reacted to that, hurrying forward to engage still more darkspawn in battle. Maker's breath—that woman was untamable.

The rest of us followed, and Loki was the only one who could truly catch up to her, and they seemed to be fighting alongside a group of five men—dwarves, who didn't seem to be either Bhelen's or Harrowmont's men. These were warriors. We finally dispatched the small band of darkspawn, and the leader of the warriors met Kiera with a greeting; she had now taken over Daylen's position as unofficial leader.

"_Atrast vala_, Grey Warden. I've never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads."

She nodded in return. "And yet you don't sound surprised."

"In the Legion of the Dead, we abandon our lives to be free from fear, free of hopeful blindness. The coming Blight is obvious to us. The surprise is not that you have come, but that you have come in so small a number. What do you want here, Warden?"

"I'm Kiera, and we're looking for allies."

"It's an odd tactic, recruiting from the frontline. The darkspawn pitch their camps in their tunnels between your "Blights", you know. Give me a reason to look topside." The dwarf was disdainful, but his reasons struck a little close to home.

Kiera tried to reason with them, but I could see that she was getting a little frustrated. "We could end it—or at least… We could use some help dealing with the Blight, you know, on the surface?"

"Why? The other kingdoms only care when the darkspawn march in the light. But they are always here, always pushing. Your nightmare is my everyday. Our resolve gives you a rest between Blights. A surge on the surface would give us a break. When the time comes, I'll care for a good dwarven reason. Sod the rest."

"And a good day to you too." Exasperated, Kiera turned away from the dwarves, as Oghren chuckled. The man was apparently impressed by her bad manners. The combined ogre and genlock band was quickly decimated by her growing irritation, and everyone shared a grin. Kiera was very easy to read when something got on her nerves.

It was clear that she needed an outlet; and unfortunately for the darkspawn, they had caught her on a bad day.

xOxOx

Leliana

We were set upon by more groups of these foul creatures, yet the three Grey Wardens in our party never even seemed to tire; Kiera and Alistair taking on the largest number of them, coming out on top while Daylen took care of the spell-casting ones with his newest spell.

"You learn fast, my _apprentice."_ Kiera grinned, as she called over to Daylen. He flashed a most dazzling smile back, and Zevran had to shield me from the swing of an axe with both his blades.

He winked at me, but tutted disapprovingly."Leliana, one should not cast lusty glances whilst in battle. No matter how _delicious_ he is." I blushed deeply, but I knew he was right. Yet I wanted nothing more than to get out of this place, and to have Daylen all to myself.

Zevran

The Wardens were most impressive, they were fighting in unison, and despite the close quarters, we too had begun to move along, to match their prowess in battle with our own expertise. So this was what it was like, to be part of a larger group— to defend others alongside the famed warriors. They were excellent for morale, as was just being near my _bella_, my warrior princess. She was a marvel to watch—her deadly movements were graceful, her steps fluid and perfect.

She would have made a fine assassin. Or a dancer. I vote for both.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Replaying Origins is overwhelming at times. *shudders*<p> 


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29: A dwarf, golem, and an anvil…

A/N: So I'm going to keep it normal, and not bold my characters' names. xD Oh, and we will be ending Orzammar soon. Can't wait. XD Please read and review!

* * *

><p>Morrigan<p>

The party had split into a few groups, for our new leader had kindly requested that every mage be accompanied by two non-mages. She hoped to protect everyone in the dark caverns after a few near misses when Daylen had led us into ambushes. Interestingly enough, she had not considered herself as a mage, but rather as a warrior.

Such foolishness.

It was true that she no longer did most of the casting, but she had refused any guards for herself, even that of her loyal Templar. He had seemed hurt, and that was most satisfying to watch.

We had rested briefly in the area which we had cleared of darkspawn—it had seemed to be a place where they forged their weapons and armor. The fire was blazing bright, casting shadows against the wall. Briefly, I wondered if we were chasing the same—shadows, the endless tunnels and darkspawn seemed to prove so. _She_ was still tense, alert to the vague scrabblings that echoed faintly in the distance.

Kiera had calmly warned me against shapeshifting in the caves, commenting on how similar my spider form was to the creatures which infested the tunnels. I consented, if only to satisfy her not unreasonable demands. She had approached me alone, and I appreciated that. To have that idiot Templar jeer at me would be most annoying, and I did not understand what _she_ saw in him.

A disembodied female voice seemed to reverberate in these parts_._

"_First day they come and catch everyone."_ The empty way it was said chilled my veins, even though I would never admit it to anyone. Something was very wrong here, and with no doubt, the Grey Wardens were leading all of us in that direction. Sometimes I wondered what they sought to achieve, flinging themselves at such danger without a second thought. It certainly wasn't bravery, I saw.

Their actions seemed to be akin to perpetual deathseeking.

Words continued echoing off the low ceilings.

"_Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."_ Just where was this voice coming from?

"_Third day, the men are gnawed on again."_ It sounded faintly like some of Flemeth's stories, but now was not the time for reminiscing on such nonsense. The dark was beginning to close in and the only light we saw were the dims ones on our staves. We marched in silence.

"_Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate."_ I was gratified to see that I wasn't the only one unduly wary at our surroundings. The bard crept closer to Daylen, who had refused my advances so far. He was indeed rather… fascinating.

"_Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn."_ Kiera was alarmed by that, but she continued to lead. She had a most definite resolve, much stronger than the two bumbling men. It was high time a woman took charge.

"_Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."_ Where most would falter, our leader simply picked up the pace. As much as I do not approve of this running into danger, _she_ seemed almost expectant—something large lay ahead.

"_Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew."_ Blood? Or other unsavoury fluids? It was disturbing to even ponder on such. Everyone was silent, no doubt dreading the rest of the rhyme that was soon to come.

xOxOx

Alistair

"_Eighth day, we hated as she is violated."_ I glanced nervously at Kiera, but she seemed more concerned with something else. She had wanted me to stay close to Wynne, and as much as I hated to let her lead on alone, she continued with only Loki close at her heels. The taint felt much stronger now.

"_Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin."_ The tunnel had opened into the small rooms, filled with the same bulbous things which we had seen once before, at the Circle. These were much more grotesque, however, they gleamed a most oily black.

She had stopped in front of a door, listening intently. The voice was nearer, and I dreaded to find out just what was behind that door.

"_Now she does feast, as she's become the beast_." Kiera took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

Daylen

We found a woman, tearing at something on the ground. She seemed demented, mumbling those words over and over again. I wanted her to stop, but Kiera merely waited for her to finish her rhyme again before speaking. The woman was tainted, but she seemed lucid, and mumbled her story.

The darkspawn had used this woman turning the others who belonged to Branka's house, and this knowledge made us uncertain. This Branka didn't seem quite so worthy of her title as Paragon, from the horrors that lurked in those deadened eyes, whispered in that hideous rhyme—nothing we heard of her was positive.

Oghren had identified the woman as Hespith, and she refused to talk of Branka despite Kiera's numerous coaxings and soothing words. We were a little taken aback at the events she revealed, and the dwarf was similarly affected as he gaped after the fleeing woman.

His wife had left him for _her_.

Our findings were now that Branka had become consumed by her obsession with this Anvil, and if the woman was to be believed, there was precious little left of her sanity.

I whispered this to Kiera. "I'm not too sure about getting Branka's support for the throne now, you know."

"I know, but we have no other choice, do we?" She glanced nervously at Oghren, who had fallen silent in the light of such things. He had even stopped drinking from that accursed skin, following in Kiera's wake.

Sten

"Two ogres lie ahead, let's split into two teams then. Heavier armour in front— then rogues and mages._"_ the _kadan_ spoke, readying her blades for battle. Her requests seemed nothing like the orders that I was used to; yet we followed suit, and the beasts fell efficiently. She seemed to be tracking the crazed dwarven woman, and we continued, cautiously.

"_The men, they kill, they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them…."_ That infuriating voice was continuing, despite the fact that its owner was no longer in sight. These tunnels echoed with the slightest noise.

"_They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood."_ It was strange to see nothing of the rising horror in the _kadan _that the rest of the other females in our party exhibited so freely. Her face was calm, if slightly paler than before. Yet, when the _kadan_ had stumbled upon a rock and had leant against me for support, I felt small tremors; she was shivering, very faintly.

She pulled away, and forced herself to carry on moving.

She was proving to be a most interesting human.

Kiera

I was going to be sick—this Hespith's mutterings seemed like nothing but the ramblings of a crazed woman, but the things she detailed—Maker—they were horrible.

"_And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned grey and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them." _Women were being turned into mothers of darkspawn? Now I know why Duncan had hesitated at my Joining.

"_Broodmother_."

We turned a corner, and found a most heinous creation; a huge, tentacled _thing_, with numerous pairs of breasts, sagging. Everyone stared in horror—this was what made darkspawn? I struggled to control my involuntary retchings, as well as the panic rising in my throat.

"Someone, please end it for me before I ever get dragged away by the vile things." I muttered, and Alistair's hand grasped mine. Although we were both encased in this blasted platemail, I could feel his warmth, his strength adding to my own. It was a relief to have someone to hold on to, amid all of this chaos.

xOxOx

Alistair

The dwarf seemed to be in denial; the Paragon we had searched so hard for was alas, hostile. Yet, Oghren seemed not to heed the warning signs; especially the trap that she had set for us, blocking our exit from the area.

"Shave my back and call me an elf! Branka? By the Stone, I barely recognised you!" I give him zero points for mental imagery. Those metaphors were disgusting, to say the least.

"Oghren. It figures you would eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily." The woman turned her half-crazed eyes upon Kiera, who was standing at the head of our party.

"And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?" Kiera seemed content to let the woman talk, she seemed to be thinking quite hard. Perhaps upon Hespith's warnings about her? Even I wasn't too sure we should continue in this chase for a mad Paragon.

Oghren yelled at Branka, "Be respectful woman! You're talking to a Grey Warden!" To be honest, I was quite shocked that he was even sober enough to pay attention to the conversation, but he had stood up for Kiera, and that earned him some points in my favour.

Branka continued, tapping her chin with an armoured hand. "Ah, so an important errand boy then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side."

Kiera actually answered that, which seemed to surprise the woman. "Maybe I just want to help Oghren?"

"Nobody helps Oghren. At best, Oghren's need to find me happened to coincide with the needs of someone more important." Was she really married to the dwarf? She seemed so… mean.

"Arrrgh! You are _impossible_! This Grey Warden's come all the way from the surface to ask your help picking Endrin's successor!" Oghren growled at her, but Kiera calmly drew her weapons again, walking off to the side; ignoring the nutty Paragon. She had motioned us along too, we followed her deeper into the place, and saw a group of darkspawn pour in through the other opening in the cave.

"I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken money on the throne. Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting. The Anvil of the Void. The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first archdemon ever to rise. It's here. So close I can taste it."

By following Kiera, we were soon out of hearing range; the woman truly was obsessed with the Anvil's supposed power.

xOxOx

Daylen

What we did next was to walk into numerous traps; rooms filled with poisonous gas, pressure plates, and these we endured— as forward was the only conceivable way out. Kiera's fearlessness was definitely admirable, but she flirted with serious injury when she rushed headlong into things. We found a large cavern, one which the molten lava had casted bright, reddish hues all over the stone walls.

And there, in the centre of the place, stood numerous golems—these we had fought, and each battle was brutal, for one cannot simply harm a creature made out of solid rock.

The golems stood still, deceptively so, as we had found out by surviving some of the earlier ambushes. And yet, our gazes were drawn to a most majestic one, which stood at the very end, right in the middle of the two rows. It was different, somehow, and to our immense shock, it began to speak.

"My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to remember, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar. If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story, or be doomed to relive it."

"Caridin? As in _the_ Caridin? Of Caridin's Cross?" Kiera's voice was incredulous as she stared up at the golem. It was truly a wonder.

"Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item: the Anvil of the Void. It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one of the cost. No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life.

To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere."

Kiera nodded, "Sounds like blood magic. A dangerous road."

The creature continued with its account, "The darkspawn were pressing in. Originally, I only took volunteers, the bravest of souls willing to trade their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland."

"But man's heart is filled with inevitable greed." Kiera commented; we all knew that it would happen.

"King Valtor became greedy, and began to force men… casteless and criminals, his political enemies… all of them were to be given to the anvil. It took feeling the hammer's blow myself to realize the height of my crimes."

"So… you want revenge?" She pondered carefully—golems would surely aid us in the battle, but the price seemed so… extreme.

"Not revenge. The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind. We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it." Kiera had had a hand on her chin, deep in thought.

A cry startled the party, and we spun around to see Branka rushing towards us. "No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!

Alistair broke in, addressing Caridin. I have to admit, we were a little impatient to get this over with. "You need our help for that, I presume?"

"Yes! You! Please… help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!"

"You were a Paragon. I'll help if you support a new King in Orzammar." Kiera's suggestion rang true. It was plain that we couldn't trust the madwoman behind us.

"Don't listen! He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness. Help me claim the Anvil, and you will have an army like you've never seen!"

A mutter came from Leliana, who had a most disgusted stare directed at Branka. "If you ask me, she's the one who's been stewing in her madness—the golem makes more sense than she does."

"Branka, you mad bleeding nug-tail. Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?" Oghren had stepped between Kiera and the woman, trying to talk some sense into his wife.

Kiera had already made a decision, apparently deciding to take matters into her own hands. "We'll destroy the Anvil if you'll show your support for Prince Bhelen. That is the deal that I offer."

The golem sounded so relieved and we all knew that it was the right thing to do. "Thank you stranger. Your compassion shames me."

The female dwarf cried out in frustration, and darted forward, waving a rod in her hands. It seemed to call the other golems into action, and we were once drawn into another fight with the impossibly tough-hided creatures. Ugh.

Leliana

The mages and warriors kept the golems at bay as Zevran and I took on this Branka. She had a most foul attitude, and her seasoned, calculated swings made it difficult to get near her. Soon, however, we had managed to knock the control rod from her grasping hands, and Loki promptly picked it up, dancing out of her reach.

She had flung her shield at the poor _mabari_, and hit it on its jaw, which snapped shut from the impact and bit clean through the control rod.

All the golems now stood abruptly still, unmoving, like the statues they resembled. Kiera had run over to the whining dog, healing its bruises while Daylen froze the woman in place.

He called, repeating Kiera's offer to the golem. "Paragon Caridin, we will destroy the Anvil when you show your support for our cause."

"Yes. For the aid you've given me, I shall put hammer to steel one last time, and give you a crown for the king of your choice." That was apparently all they needed to prove that a Paragon had given support for the dwarven kingship.

"And I thought he said that golems couldn't approach the Anvil," Kiera muttered. She was still soothing Loki, the big baby.

The golem then presented us with a shining grown which glowed in its perfection, and Sten stepped forward—his _qunari_ strength shattering the Anvil in one blow.

"You have my eternal thanks, stranger. _Atrast nal tunsha_… may you always find your way in the dark." Saying this, Caridin stepped off the ledge, and fell into the lava, leagues below. Now, we had the matter of dealing with Branka, who, although encased in ice, had the most evil glare.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Yes, I'm diverting from the storyline regarding Branka. Oghren seems to need closure. =)<p> 


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Leaving Orzammar Politics for Redcliffe

A/N: So we leave Orzammar—and head back to Redcliffe for some more yelling. Some in-game dialogue.

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

We had the crown, and all that was left was to decide what to do with Branka—she was raving when Daylen had thawed the ice around her shoulders and head. We needed to talk to her.

"You people destroyed any chance for Orzammar to regain its glory!" She actually tried to lunge at us while still encased in the hard frost. Daylen had surprisingly thought to freeze _around_ the woman and not the actual flesh—I don't think I would have done the same; she had hurt our poor _mabari_.

Oghren sighed, "Branka, just be thankful they spared your life—I've seen these people fight; they never leave _anything_ alive."

"And YOU! You let them! I can't believe you! That Anvil was beyond ANYTHING your nug-droppings-for-brains could have imagined! This is why I didn't bring you— _you_ would have ruined everything! At least _Hespith_ knew its worth and paid notice to _orders_." Branka spat as she glared fierce daggers at Oghren.

"Branka…" The dwarf began, but he turned to me instead. "So… what happens now?"

"She's your wife," I replied—trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

"Yeah… but… she's lost it—I married a girl who you could just talk to for a minute and see how brilliant she was…"

"Do you think we should bring her back to Orzammar?" Daylen spoke, walking over to us.

Oghren smirked nastily. "Well, _skirt-boy_, I'm not sure that the dwarves will want to know that one of their Paragons is loopy—"

"Did he just call me _'skirt-boy'_?" I rolled my eyes; ignoring Daylen's question. We had to deal with this soon.

"So what, we leave her here—in the Deep Roads?"

A shadow passed behind those now-sober eyes. "Nah… I think—we should at least bring her to the place where we met the Legion."

"Sure." I began unfreezing the woman's feet; Daylen was still smarting over that 'skirt' remark. To my surprise she actually sprang on me as soon as her legs were thawed—and had wrenched her hands free of the ice, fastening her hands around my neck; tightening with each pulse. No one had the chance to even respond; when a gush of blood splashed onto my face— and I saw Branka's head separate from her neck—thumping to the cavern floor, inches from own.

Oghren had beheaded her.

"Damn woman—she just doesn't know when to stop."

xOxOx

Alistair

We finally left Ozarmmar, much to the relief of everyone; we had now regained the sky, and the sun. Oghren seemed to be adjusting well, although he still seemed to be a little uncertain.

"By the Stone, I feel like I'm about to fall off the world, what with all that sky up there."

Kiera smiled, watching his understandable disconcertion. "Well, take your time; we need you to be able to fight."

The dwarf hefted his axe up again, "Nah, I'm not afraid of a sodding high ceiling. Let's go, boss." He had taken quite well to Kiera. Perhaps he really was feeling fine—even after that thing with Branka.

"So… what do you think Orzammar will be like with Bhelen in power?" Daylen murmured as we walked down the mountain.

"I think that whatever it is, the dwarves will have to deal with it on their own—I'm just sick of politics by now." Kiera muttered back, stomping off. She was still a little steamed with Bhelen's reaction. I can't say I blame her, but I knew that we weren't completely safe from politics—there was still Eamon.

Daylen snorted,"I honestly thought that you were being serious; threatening to conscript their new King if he had Harrowmont executed." We all did, Kiera's attitude had been rather convincing; Bhelen had dropped all charges against the other dwarf immediately. It was pretty awesome.

"I felt bad enough that we had to pick _him_—I'm not going to have ridiculous rumours hanging over our heads—that the Grey Wardens supported that man's death. Bhelen's going to need an advisor anyway—"

"Or you know, they could always fight it out in the Provings. It's way faster." Grunted Oghren. All of us were a little surprised at his nonchalance. He seemed to be less than affected by his—well—Branka's death.

"That's true… and no Champions fighting for them. Those men working for Harrowmont were such wusses."

"Heh—so you into real _men_ then?" A leer spread on that bearded face; and Kiera pretended not to notice.

"Hmm… Let's not _overshare_." I caught Kiera glancing in my direction and I had to hide a smug grin—she was being quite obvious.

xOxOx

Wynne

The sky darkened rapidly as we descended the mountain, so we made camp at its foot—thankfully the snow present on the upper slopes didn't manifest there. Kiera seemed to be passing some things rather _surreptitiously_ to Oghren, who received these gifts with genuine pleasure— but as sorry as we were for the man, he really shouldn't be drinking quite so much.

Alistair and I were to take first watch with the dwarf, and so I took out my knitting; winter was coming and we were still unable to find a set of winterwear that would fit Sten. Daylen and Leliana hurried into their tent— yes they now seemed to share a tent, Leliana no longer set up hers. Kiera and Alistair were also sharing a tent, but she was taking third watch with Sten and Zevran. Children.

All these pairings make an old woman feel even older.

I hoped that we had enough wool—the chill had definitely set in; and this cloak for Sten had to be finish before the snow started to fall. I was rolling my eyes each time Alistair glanced over at the tent where Kiera was; he wasn't being particularly discreet about where he really wanted to be. I didn't realise_ I_ was being so obvious about my annoyance either—even the dwarf noticed.

"Aye, sure. Why not?" Came his gruff tones from across the fire.

"Pardon?" I looked up from the twelve rows that I had already done, and wondered if Sten would like the wool in a different colour. Maybe lilac—to match his eyes? Hmm.

His small eyes leered, a most unpleasant grin spread on his face. "Oh, I'd give you a roll. Why not?"

"A 'roll'?" Now what was he talking about? I think I had an inkling—but the image was bizarre.

Oghren nodded, a tad sheepishly, but he seemed serious. "Aye. Any time. Preferably in the dark."

"I suppose I should be flattered." Maker—I wasn't sure how old he was, but I think I had a good twenty years on him.

"I'm not sure I have the equipment for that, but sure, whatever gets you working." I shook my head—declining. It was obvious that Oghren was very drunk, and I realised that Alistair eyeing us; very carefully. I cleared my throat, and _he_ looked away—embarrassed. Just what was the boy imagining?

We sat in silence, I was counting the stitches I made—making sure that it was wide enough for the _qunari_; he was certainly very broad in the shoulders. Oghren still seemed to be awake—or at least lucid enough to talk; thankfully, he decided to engage Alistair with his _fine_ choice of conversation topics.

"So. With the boss, aye?" He chuckled, his bushy eyebrows moving animatedly.

Alistair looked up from next to Kiera's tent. "Pardon?"

The grin widened even further. "You and the boss. Rolling your oats." The gleam in his eyes grew with his mirth.

"I don't know—" Alistair looked confused as he tried to understand Oghren's filthy analogies.

"Polishing the footstones."

"—what you're—"

"Tapping the midnight still, if you will."

"What are you going on about?"

"Forging the moaning statue. Bucking the forbidden horse. Donning the velvet hat." These were much more… explicit. I think even our chantry boy understood them.

Alistair raised an eyebrow, incredulous at the sheer volume of the dwarf's euphemisms—and I think he was also a little horrified. "Are you just making these up right now?"

Oghren merely winked. "Nope. Been saving 'em." Alistair flushed deeply, self-consciously turning away from the cloths that hid object of his affections.

"We haven't… done that. Yet." As soon as those words left his lips, he regretted them heartily.

"I knew it—I can smell purity a mile away. It's a talent." Oghren sniggered, swigging yet another mouthful of the drink.

"That proves to be useful, I'm sure." Alistair replied wryly, he wasn't amused.

I wasn't quite sure if Oghren got the sarcasm. He only scratched his chin, commenting dryly, "Not that often, it turns out. Be much better if I could smell cheese."

"You have my deepest condolences." The boy pursed his lips, seemingly more concerned with not revealing any more about his love life with Kiera.

"Yep. So do you." The dwarf raised the bottle at Alistair before downing the whole lot.

xOxOx

_She watched him intently, his pacing across the room intrigued her—he exuded an aura of rage, but it seemed to be directed at something else altogether. Her eyes followed his tall, masculine figure whilst she spooned the gruel into her mouth, wincing as the steaming food brushed her bruised lips. She was fine, for the most part, the Mage who had forced himself upon her—or rather, tried to—had been wrenched off in the nick of time. Marc had been terrifying as his whole body vibrated with power, strength that glowed almost-blindingly all around him before he had smited the Senior Enchanter unconscious._

_The girl swallowed painfully, her throat was raw from that attack – she had tried healing herself, but her fingers refused to bend properly, so all she could do was to wait. For her body had to heal on its own; no one would touch her, not after the accusations the mage had made against her—naming her a blood mage. The only reason the child felt this calm was because of the protection that Marc now wielded—she was sitting on his bed in the Templar quarters; he had refused to let any of the others near her. She knew that his behavior was very out of the ordinary—none of the Templars should even deign to help a mage, let alone one who was a suspected maleficar._

"_Blood magic. What do those fools know?" He muttered as he paced, before abruptly walking over to her. The sheer closeness that he unexpectedly presented struck some fear into her—and she shuddered, unable to stop cowering at his sudden looming appearance. She couldn't seem to move, and he was alarmed, and gently held her close to him, trying to stop her uncontrollable sobbing with kind words and tenderness. She was a little dizzy, and her eyes hurt. She didn't want him to let go, but she also didn't want him to hold on to her. She felt unclean. She didn't know what she wanted, but she needed to be alone._

_He woke her later, when he had returned from the First Enchanter's room; announcing that they were to leave the next morning. Hugues was reading a book in the firelight—he had offered to keep watch while she slept. Marc would not let her return to the Mage quarters unaccompanied, but she had scurried to get her things with Hugues—all her little books of notes and a set of fresh clothes. They were to leave for Ferelden— a place which Orlais only disdainfully mentioned in passing._

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Sorry I took a couple of days with this; writer's block. On the bright side I've gotten my hands on Dragon Age II! And Skyrim, but that one my sis is hogging. Thanks for reading, and I hope I'll be able to finish this soon!<p> 


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31: The Beginning of the End

A/N: I am so so sorry for the latest chapter, I was agonizing over how to write it, and I suspect that the worse is yet to come. Please continue reading; I shall work hard and hopefully get back on track!

* * *

><p><em>It was a dream—a dream filled with mists and smoke, obscuring everything that lay around me. I knew it was a dream, and yet it wasn't, not really. There was that familiar scaled figure perched on the rising stone pinnacles, its height reaching up into the sky. I climbed the summit, searching, seeking the true form that I knew was there. My blood hummed that haunting call that drew all the tainted toward its true ruler. Nothing would stand in its way, its reign was eventual—and I almost forgot what I was. Grey Wardens felt the same infection but could resist its allure, but it seemed almost too easy to just give in—handing the rest of the world to this being which held so much power. An eerie light grew, and the fog parted as a blast of the violet flame tore its path, and the shape within gloom revealed itself—it was the spiky shape of the archdemon. Somehow, it had sensed that I was there, and it sought me out—no, it had sought us out. I saw the others, eyes fixated upon the terrifying figure that loomed before us, its cries, its song, picking out a way towards us. We had been found. It was now officially a true Blight. Watching their lonely forms, each upon the same pinnacle as I, it gave me the strength to resist, to avoid it—there was a meaning beyond this collective thought—a meaning that gave reason to my muddled thoughts. There was a promise of a family, beyond the Blight, there was <em>_her__._

xOxOx

Kiera

We had all dreamt of the archdemon, its deafening roar stuck in our heads even when we awoke, but all seemed to be well—I felt nothing, not yet. It was true that it had noticed us, as we sense it in return, but I didn't feel its immense bulk bearing down on us anytime soon. And yet, it was a true Blight. Without another Senior Warden around, it felt odd to be in charge. Sten and Zevran were taking third watch too and as I made tea, conversation was unavoidable, much to Sten's vexation.

The elf began when as the _qunari_ exited his tent. "I understand that there are elves in the _Qunari_ lands, Sten."

Sten turned his lilac eyes upon Zevran, replying flatly, "There are elves everywhere.

"Hm. Yes. Well, I've heard that the _Qunari_ actually put the elves in charge? Over the humans? Is that true?" I felt Zevran's eyes on me, but I busied myself with the boiling drink. I needed something hot and sweet to wash out that taste of mustiness that often accompanies sleep.

"Some of them." The red tea was ready, and I poured it into mugs for all three of us. The biting winds had died down, but it was still very cold out here.

The two men took the mugs from me as we settled down near the fire. "Only some?" Zevran wondered aloud. "Which ones are they?"

"The ones who belong in charge. That is the way of the _Qun_." This _Qun_ interested me immensely, but Sten was always so adamant in not talking about his people as a _collective whole_.

Zevran's tone was light, and still curious. It was as if he wanted to make a subtle point about elves and humans—interesting. "So how does this _Qun_ determine who belongs in charge?"

I sipped at the tea, and longed for some lemon. Fresh produce was hard to come by in a Blight. It was a most enlightening conversation, and even Sten seemed in a better mood with the warm drink in his large hands. "The _tamassrans_ evaluate everyone and place them where their talents merit." I had heard of these _tamassrans_ too—they were like teachers, educating the young and the newly converted in the ways of the _Qun._

"But elves, in general, merit higher places than humans in _Qunari_ society?" From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Zevran was shooting me surreptitious glances—but I pretended not to notice.

"Some of them." Sten continued drinking the tea, a smile curling on his lips.

"Back where we began. It's like talking to a water wheel." Zevran was exasperated, but refrained from asking further, careful to finish the drink before it cooled. I poked at the fire, not expecting their attentions to be turned so quickly upon me.

"I have yet to thank you, _kadan._" Sten was suddenly at my side, pouring more of the steaming tea for the two of us.

"Ah… it's nothing. It is good to fight with your familiar weapon—yes?" I looked up at the towering _qunari_, aware that he was trying to thank me for finding his blade—_Asala_.

"Yes." He nodded, settling down again next to me.

Zevran surveyed him suspiciously. "What does that word—_kadan_— mean?"

"It… has no satisfactory equivalent in the common tongue." Sten's words were hesitant, almost embarrassed, and I wondered whether he was afraid of saying the wrong things. He had once revealed that the reason behind the silence the _qunari_ maintained in the presence of others was due to their unfamiliarity with the common tongue.

"Is it a _dirty_ word then?" The elf grinned at the two of us, and I hurriedly gulped down my mouthful before I could choke on the tea.

Was it any surprise that Sten's voice was now disdainful? "No."

Abruptly, the chill deepened and soft insisting whispers began to hum; but these sounds reverberated within my body, they could not be heard physically. The whisperings revealed that our soon-to-be attackers comprised a small band of less than ten; small, light, fast. I murmured to my companions, "Something nasty this way comes," and grabbed my blades.

Zevran looked alarmed, but brandished his daggers as Sten hefted _Asala_— both readying themselves for an enemy attack.

Zevran

Sure enough, a group of about eight Shrieks struck at the same instant—and we were ready for them, tearing our way through without hesitation.

The way Kiera spun on her heel as she drove her blades into the fiends was ridiculously sexy; her hair flowing behind her as she ducked and weaved, distracting even our stoic _qunari_ friend with her skills. She wound up slaying four Shrieks on her own, and we dispatched thewhole group even before their cries roused any of our companions.

"Assassins sent by the archdemon, I suppose." Kiera muttered as we moved the carcasses away from the main camp—careful not to let any of the tainted blood come into contact with our bare skin. She set these alight with a blast of flame, the light from which casting a lovely glow off her hair—beautiful even in a situation as morbid as ours.

"What—no traps, no poison? Some Assassins." I muttered dismissally as we walked the distance back to camp; but Kiera was barely listening, she was intent on our surroundings, making sure that we wouldn't be ambushed by anymore of these nasties. It was strange; how she took care of us all, unassuming, and always on the alert when she wasn't distracted by our resident Templar.

xOxOx

Daylen

We finally reached Redcliffe, but despite all our hurrying, we took a good four days to return to the village; the onslaught of winter made the days short and the nights long. The village seemed to be fine, and there was definitely more knights than before—Arl Eamon seemed to be rather successful in calling back his troops. Bann Teagan met us at the gates of the castle, welcoming us all into the main hall.

The sky had darkened again—daylight was almost over, and we trudged into the rooms that had been prepared, baths and dinner that were steaming and comforting after that time on the road.

Eamon was apparently too busy to grant us an audience; and I suspected that he was up to something, most likely more political plots. I almost wished that we had not gone to fetch the Ashes, judging by the faintly skittish way Kiera behaved whenever someone appeared in the entrance of the dining hall. She seemed to expect the Arl's presence, more jumpy than I had ever seen her, when she wasn't lost in her thoughts.

It was worrying that she only had one plate of food.

xOxOx

_The Warden compound was a wonder, a fortress amid a plain that was also fringed by forests—trees that were excellent as cover as I made my way there. The sentries were guarded, but allowed my entry into the stone walls. Dusk was falling, but the men I saw were still giving their best at the straw dummies—each 'thwack' as their swords hit, loud and firm with their strokes. They were very disciplined, for few stopped to even glance my way. I hurried behind the guardsman—the assassins were surely not far behind. The hall I was ushered into was sparsely decorated, but what wowed me were the rows and rows of weapons, racks that were filled with every kind one could find; from blades to staves and all of them seemed to be used._

_I must admit that I expected a refusal; no one in their right mind would let some urchin into the formidable force that were the Grey Wardens, but I was kind of hoping that my skills with magic would prove my advantage. It seemed odd, but I'd only just noticed that there were no women amongst the many men who were in the courtyard. The servants also seemed to be an all-male crew._

_The man they called Commander soon appeared at the top of the immense staircase, and the first thing I noticed was his impassive grey eyes. He was accompanied by another, a bearded man—who had a kinder gaze. They had seemed mildly surprised at my appearance, and shared a look before the Commander spoke. Neither of them seemed willing to allow my joining the Wardens; but when the call came that there were Templars at the gate demanding entry; I shrank, despite all my bravado. I rather hoped that they didn't notice, but there was no denying that I had immediately assumed that these people would hand me over in a trice._

_Thus, it came as a shock that Aiden—the Commander flatly refusing the Chantry's request. The order was given to bar the gate, numerous archers appearing on the walls at his singular rebuff. That one phrase stuck in my head—that short sentence that had once stopped my persecution, if only briefly; "Grey Wardens bow to no one." I would use it too—one day, if I'd ever become one of them._

xOxOx

Kiera

A mage— was a _thing_ that humans could not abide. I knew that Alistair was asleep and as much as I wanted to lie there, pressed up against his warmth, I needed some time away, to think, to plan. The night was cold, so I remained in the dining hall, where the fire burned bright. Nothing chilled me more than the contents of my own thoughts.

I didn't want to see anyone else divided—that screaming that Isolde had done the last time we were here had shocked me, a loving couple at loggerheads over _us_. It didn't matter what I had felt—the matter regarded yet another throne, and a _mage_ had to step aside before an Exalted March was declared upon its ruler.

What really mattered at this moment was how Alistair felt—how he would feel, of my having given up on _us_, on the doomed future that was ahead. I felt drained; at all this fighting that I had done—my whole life, mincing around gingerly, named a mage, and dismissed for being one.

This was the reason I joined the Wardens, the reason I came to Ferelden. I wanted nothing else to hold me back—nothing else to give cause for any hesitation, finally ending this endless journey—I was deathseeking. I didn't expect to fall for _him_, a Templar, and then a Prince; making me smile even at the worst of times, filling my mind with tender thoughts and my nights with affectionate embraces. I didn't want another to suffer for my lineage, the curse that I had lived with—a gift with so many strings attached that it yanked in several directions at once.

Especially not him.

It was complicated, but it had to be done. I just hope that he wouldn't hate me too much when it was done. Maker only knows how much I hate myself now.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: I know I promised yelling, but it will come. Maybe. Heh. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Some Target Practice

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. Please keep on reading, we'd be at the very end soon! As always, review when you're done! Thanks!

* * *

><p>Alistair<p>

I woke up to an empty bed; Kiera was missing. I admit, I was more than a little bit frantic at the thought of her leaving, and even seeing her pack sitting near the door did not deter my mind from panicking—her swords were gone. I hurriedly pulled some boots, before scouring the halls for her. I tried not to seem harried as I passed giggling servant girls and men who gave me knowing looks—the two of us had gone to bed right after dinner. Kiera wasn't like that. We shared the bed at night—nothing _else_ happened.

I found her in the courtyard, wielding her blades like a pro, switching stances as each stroke hit the straw dummy. Her focus was so intense that she seemed unaware of the crowd she was drawing; the Redcliffe knights were watching her train in the dawning sun.

I too gaped with them as the sun's rays caught her gleaming hair, my eyes following the path of her perspiration as the droplets followed the curve of her slightly reddened cheeks, before staining her already drenched tunic—whose material stuck to her torso, outlining her figure. That image made everything uncomfortable, so I cleared my throat—loudly, which startled the men out of their mesmerized state, although it did nothing for the girl so intent on destroying the poor straw target.

I strode amidst the rapidly dissipating crowd, towards Kiera, almost getting decapitated in the process.

Kiera stopped, with the tip of her blade just inches from my nose. "Andraste's flaming—Alistair! Do not _ever_ sneak up on a woman when she's training!"

"Just you? Or all women in general?" I quipped as Kiera lowered her blades, shaking her head with a sigh. She was the only woman I knew who would train this early in the day— she seemed to have been going at it for quite some time. And I thought that I was a morning person.

"So… Have you eaten? I'm starving." I tossed Kiera a clean towel, having grabbed it off one of the benches inside the main hall. I was glad that she draped the cloth around her shoulders after wiping the sweat from her brow—the shirt was now clinging very suggestively.

"Nope, wasn't hungry. Now I'm famished— let's hope that Daylen hasn't inhaled everything edible yet." She grinned, and it was that familiar cheeky smile; the one that I hadn't even noticed missing. I realized then that Kiera had gotten a lot more serious over the time she joined our party.

xOxOx

Daylen

The Arl still seemed to be too busy to give us more than a cursory 'Good Morning', so we decided to take some time off. Leliana, Wynne and Sten headed promptly to the village for some shopping; whilst Kiera decided that it was the best time for me to learn the way to wield that curved blade we had gotten a while back.

It was really tough to keep my wrist loose in that manner that Kiera had recommended—some things just didn't bend that way. It then got even more difficult to concentrate when the rest in our party began 'helping' by providing their own input—often at odds with the others' opinions. Kiera didn't seem to mind their meddling, but my head was swimming amidst all those snide remarks—Zevran and Oghren were being particularly mean.

"Looks like _skirt-boy_ ain't too flexible eh? What with all that yelling the other girl made at night…"

"I must agree—I shall venture a guess that the only parts that would elicit that sort of response—I would be his _limber_ fingers."

"Actually… that bit is true… our fingers are very supple and strong, yet also very sensitive…" Kiera muttered audibly —and this remark made everyone stare at her, while Morrigan chuckled in amusement. Alistair flushed as both dwarf and elf roared with laughter; but to my chagrin, _she_ went on:

"The most fun part about mages? The skilled ones can coat skin with a thin layer of ice, or create sparks for a most _unforgettable_ performance— hmm now that does sound kind of fun." Ugh. Kiera was revealing way too much. _Information_.

"Do not underestimate the powers of a regeneration enchantment—now that _will _make anyone last the whole night without feeling the strain." Now Morrigan had joined the fray—just wonderful.

"Why do I have to do this again? I have my spells—isn't that enough?" Slicing dreadfully at the dummy, I dropped my sword arm in vexation. I was tired. I wanted my staff instead.

"And what if you run out of mana—of your own reserves, or even lyrium potions?" Kiera countered with a glint sparking behind her eyes, crossing her arms. The laughter died off as everyone watched on curiously.

"But I have mana _now_…" I whined, thumping down to the dirt ground defiantly.

"Fine. We shall simulate _that_ situation then. Alistair—would you do the honours?" The man merely stared. He was in shock—as was I. Was Kiera being serious? She wanted Alistair to _smite_ me? Dear Maker—she _was_ a hard taskmaster. I glumly got to my feet and began going through the ridiculous thrusting and jabbing motions again.

xOxOx

Kiera

"…It will be best if you would agree to it—for Alistair's sake. For the sake of Ferelden's future, we need a monarch of the Therin line." _Untainted by mage blood._ Those were the words left unsaid, but oh so obvious in Eamon's demeanor. I raised an eyebrow at the man who stood before me—he was being a typical noble—thinking of only the throne, all other considerations thrown away in favor of his own interests, even more so than previously.

I only turned on my heel and began walking away from him—what he had asked was degrading, I would have done it anyway, but he had expressed it in such terms that made it so… that if he wasn't an Arl, I would have set his _stupid_ beard on fire. I was this close.

Eamon had caught me offguard, right before we were leaving for Soldier's Peak—while Alistair was still putting on his new platemail—and it was immediately obvious that he still didn't like me one whit, the idea of _us _a thorn in the proverbial _ass_ of his political ambitions. I emerged mutely from the study with my fists clenched and mind murderous—which I was sure that everyone could see.

I didn't need him to tell me what to do—Alistair deserved better than me, he needed a normal family which would make him happy, not some _infertile_, _Orlesian_ _maleficar_.

OxOxO

_Grey Warden secrets were awful when you hadn't Joined; everyone seemed to assume that the mysterious qualities surrounding them were too horrifying for a young girl to handle. Were they all perhaps secretly werewolves? Maybe it made them die young? Could it be that the ritual involved something rather sordid? All these thoughts certainly made the overwhelmingly small numbers of females in the order—there were only three of us in the Orlesian Compound—suspicious. This fact did not deter me from bugging the others when I had the chance, hoping that they might let slip some information in an innocuous conversation._

_I finally realized after my own Joining—that the truth of the matter wasn't all that bad. So what if it meant that I only had thirty years left to live? Every moment of my present existence was hard-won—I was never meant to live past my fifteenth year, and here I was, eighteen and still alive—a Grey Warden. The increased appetite I had already guessed at; everyone seemed to eat by the barrel-loads. _

"_Grey Wardens' bodies are also less likely to produce… offspring." Aiden muttered quickly, looking most sheepish. It did seem rather strange to find your Commander looking quite so guilty._

"_Oh. Well, no matter—I never wanted children anyway." It never even occurred to me that I would one day contemplate having children of my own; and my relief made Aiden and Duncan somewhat disturbed._

"_Any other secrets I'll need to know?" My own voice was bright, almost painfully so—and I wondered why the others winced._

"_You'll see in time." Came the reply as I swooned again—I wouldn't wake up for days, the blood loss I'd sustained in the ambush the Antivan assassins had set for me was too great._

xOxOx

Kiera

I was aware that Eamon did not question my fertility, but it was there, unsaid in his choice words—too often, people seemed to know more of the Grey Warden secrets than they should. I wondered briefly if I'd ever have children, or if I'd ever see the Orlesian Compound again.

These two thoughts were quite so different, but were nonetheless stuck, repeating themselves incessantly as we moved through the haunted grounds.

The castle was as almost as grand as the one back in Orlais—the ghostly figures haunting its halls detracting from the overall appeal of the place.

Soldier's Peak had been hard-won, what with its demon problem; but the Veil was still impossibly thin in the area, making it a place of unsafe lodgings for future Wardens. Yet, the Drydens insisted on using the area as a base for their operations, unmindful of our _professional_ warnings. At least Avernus—the ancient mage we met—had promised to keep an eye on the merchants, while continuing in his illicit research, sans blood magic, of course.

I glanced sideways at Daylen and Leliana, who seemed rather in sync with each other, and I wondered if that was what Alistair and I looked like to others; at least, I hoped that it was so. They were always close, speaking in hushed intimate tones, bantering whenever possible. If I didn't find it sweet, I might have been mildly annoyed. Making camp in the walled compound was relatively fuss-free, even with the eerie feeling that still hung around the place.

It was mildly surprising when the schedule for watch duties made certain that Alistair and I would have utmost privacy for the evening; the two of us were given third watch—and I suspected a conspiracy involving our dear Orlesian bard.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Hehehe Alistair will now make his move xD<p> 


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Screw the consequences

A/N: In-game dialogue ahead… and this chapter is a bit short, sorry.

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

"All right—I guess I really don't know how to ask you this…" Alistair's voice was tight as we began our watch, he had spent the better part of the night fidgeting, and lying next to him was rather… unrestful. I poked at the fire, wishing that I had gotten a bottle of wine, or brandy at Redcliffe; the night was cold.

"Are you… sweating?" I glanced over at him; perhaps the fire was too hot? We were sitting very close to the blazing logs.

"No! I mean—yes—um… I'm a little nervous, sure, not that this isn't anything bad or frightening or… well—yes?" He sighed, cringing a little. "Ugh how do I say this—you'd think it'd be easier but every time I'm around you I feel like my head's about to explode—and I— I can't think straight."

"Oh… um. Thanks?" I stared at him, Alistair certainly babbled some very strange things when he appeared to be grasping for the right words to say.

He slapped a hand to his forehead despairingly. "I don't mean it like that! I mean—ugh—alright let me start over." Taking a deep breath, Alistair began again. "Here's the thing—being near you makes me crazy. And—I can't imagine being without you. Not ever." Those words stole all the reasons that I had made for dumping him as per Eamon's reminder and shoved them off a cliff somewhere. I almost didn't catch his following sentences.

"I don't know how to say this another way—but I want to spend the night with you. Here, in the camp. Maybe this is too fast—I know, but I know what I _feel_." My heart thumped furiously in my chest as I considered his… words—I couldn't turn him down, not when a part of me felt that the only thing I felt was _for_ him—in return.

"Are… you sure about this? About spending the night?" A part of me sort-of hoped that it was joke, Alistair's little teasing, if only to appease the part of me that just _knew_ that this relationship wouldn't last, and letting him off now would be marginally less cruel.

He briefly glanced about us, at our tented companions and continued. "I wanted to wait for the perfect time, perfect place but—when will it _be_ perfect? If things were—we probably wouldn't even have met, and despite this being the least perfect time, I still find myself falling for you. And between all the fighting and everything else… I really don't want to wait anymore."

"I've never done this before, you know that—and—I want it to be with you. While we have the chance, in case—" Alistair's voice failed, and he stared at the ground. It was that image which had me sold. I just wanted to make the man I… loved, happy. I knew I wanted this too. I took his hand and touched it to my cheek and I flushed when his gaze met mine. I saw _hope_ in those gentle brown eyes.

"Me too." We leant into each other, taking in the kiss with so much intensity that we cared little for the fact that we were outdoors, not even _shielded_ by a tent. Screw the consequences.

xOxOx

Alistair

Kiera had casted little spells on our party as an afterthought, taking the time to include Bodahn and Sandal, Levi and even Loki. It was a wrench to stop, but the fire was almost out by the time we had recovered our senses.

It was a wonderful experience, to be with someone you loved, holding them in your arms—nothing else compared— and I was convinced that this was how I wanted us to end up; together, like this, forever. Watching her doze on my shoulder, exhaling faint breaths—I knew that this was how it should be, for the rest of our lives, no distance between us. I had trailed my fingers along those scars, the marks on her bare skin a reminder of how much she had suffered, without me by her side. Scarred by her past—because she was a _mage_.

I didn't care what I had to do, even if I was made to give up the throne—I wasn't about to let her go, driven away from me by _anyone_, not even Eamon. I was determined to be her _shield_.

At length, Kiera opened her eyes, and smiled when she saw that I was gazing back at her.

I stroked the side of her face with a finger, resting my thumb on her lips. "You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery that I should have been struck by lightning by now."

Kiera merely smiled and whispered, our lips once again touching with the barest of kisses, "Not for that performance."

I blushed and tried not to look too flattered. "As in, even the Maker thought that it was that good that he spared me the lightning? Lucky me eh?"

Kiera's grin widened as she sat up and stretched, and with a giggle, undid the enchantments that she had placed upon the rest. To my amazement the spells only seemed to have prevented the others from exiting their tents, and were not ones that made sure of their sound sleep. They stirred in time, one by one; casting odd looks in our direction. Everyone seemed unable to look directly at us.

They must've heard everything, or at the very least, most of it— and yet somehow, I didn't care in the least.

"Sleep spells need to be cast physically on the targets—so that was the best I could manage, under the circumstances." Kiera shrugged as our companions went about their business mutely, and she began packing; trying hard to cover her mirth. It was definitely worth it.

OxOxO

Daylen

It was another month or so before we finally could leave Redcliffe for Denerim for this Landsmeet business, and in that time Kiera had gotten me to fight with just that blighted blade, practicing with her. Needless to say, I lost every sparring session possible, although I felt my own reflexes improve drastically. Kiera had relented and allowed me to haste myself while we sparred, and that had made me feel a little less depressed. I wondered at just how much she had trained while in Orlais—it was certainly a curiosity; she had bested both Leliana and Zevran once.

It was such a relief when I fell into bed each night; my arms and legs aching, muscles I didn't know I had complained the moment I stopped moving. I was too tired to soothe my sore body before we turned in for the night for a better part of those thirty days, until Leliana put her foot down and said something about that to Kiera, who complied with a broad grin.

Being in a relationship was awesome.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Currently juggling Dragon Age Origins, Awakening, DA2 and Skyrim. Please forgive me for the late posts x.x<p>

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays!


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34: The Beginning of the End

A/N: I realize the hideous flip-flopping that Kiera is doing regarding Alistair might be a little bit annoying, but I have reasons for them… They're just… hidden, somewhere. *nods sagely*

* * *

><p><em>And so one night as I had envisioned, that one day, it would all come crashing down. Being a Grey Warden was not the life I had envisioned, even if it had allowed me more time to live, beyond the grasp of those who would want me dead. Aiden went to the Deep Roads today. Cerise was named as Acting Commander in his place. He had left with a few of the others, a cheerful grin on his usually impassive face, "A Blight is beginning," he had said. "You will need to support the Fereldan Wardens as best as you can while we work on the tunnels on our end." This was an address to all of us, finally the meaning for our existence as mankind's last defense was to be brought to life. Darkspawn seemed to be pouring out of the tunnels, but only slightly more than the usual.<em>

_We kept this increased activity to ourselves, and shared little with the Imperial forces. And yet, they took what vague information we gave and saw the Blight in a favorable light. Something seemed to be brewing in Val Royeaux, the odd interest her Imperial Majesty had in the whole affair was suspicious. I wanted to leave for Ferelden as soon as possible, but even Orlais had to wait for a formal invitation from the Fereldan King. Politics. King Cailan seemed optimistic about their chances, but the frontlines between our two nations remained wary and anxious. It was getting ridiculous._

_I had secretly packed my things, expectant of a positive reply from Duncan, but all the missives said that we were to wait. For how long? Were we to sit by and wait while waves of darkspawn swept upon the land and taint everything in its path? Troops of humans were standing by in the camp at Ostagar while Ferelden struggled to find more Warden Recruits, less than twenty of the Order stood in those barracks. It had shocked me to find out just how depleted our forces were in Ferelden; I had thought better of Duncan—he should have said something, and the country should welcome us with open arms—Grey Wardens cared nothing for political convulsions that have wracked international ties. I found myself pacing still more each night, exerting these excess thoughts and my strength by training furiously in the yards, sleeping less and less when the faint prickle of the taint kept me restless._

_I began to realize that most of the others were readying themselves for the 'overspill'; when the Blight would overwhelm the Fereldans and make its way into Orlais, seeing the deadlock that was preventing our aid. No. I needed to leave this place; nothing could stop me from seeking out Duncan. One person might not make a difference, but the crossing would be much easier when I was alone. Thankfully, Cerise was too distracted to prevent this, and had no other choice but to let me. Ferelden now awaited, and so did the Blight. I hoped that everything else from then on would be this easy._

xOxOx

Daylen

We all had rooms in Eamon's estate, but everyone (with the exception of Alistair) spent very little time there; the fevered atmosphere was off-putting. Most of us preferred the Market District, and left as soon as the sun was up. The Arl frequently engaged Alistair's attentions, and Kiera seemed to encourage these meetings, despite the initial protestations the former had made.

It was indeed strange, the pair had been inseparable at Redcliffe, but rarely slept in the same room in Denerim; I wondered just what the matter was. _She_ seemed most agreeable to leave the estate, leaving Alistair with Eamon's schemes. _He_ seemed too busy to notice much, but must have felt this growing divide between the pair of them.

And yet, Kiera continued to keep all sorts of hours with the others, dashing around with Zevran, Sten and even Leliana, who placated me with the slightest of explanations, which I was sure did not cover any actual information.

Wandering around the Market with Wynne (she was working on matching scarves in the free time we had) did nothing to help with the ominous feeling I got from our current circumstances—Kiera was definitely up to something, she always avoided me when she plotted.

"So… it gets pretty empty without the rest." Alistair was gloomy, released briefly from Eamon's ostentatious planning.

I handed him a mug of ale, as well as a plate of cheese. "You're telling me, everyone seems content to run off and leave us on our own. I'm starting to think that it's on purpose. I just got shooed away from Wynne's knitting."

The man sipped pensively, before snorting. "You'd think they would've taken Morrigan along." This was quite true; she had been cooped up with us in the grounds, unwilling to go off gallivanting with them.

"Morrigan seems to be unduly afraid of templars." I muttered, feeding Loki some cheese. "Don't tell her I said that."

Alistair laughed, a harsh bark. "I didn't think she was afraid of anything."

"We're all afraid of something."

"True." He put the ale down on the table, slumping forward onto the wooden surface with a sigh. "Daylen… Women are _unfathomable_."

I dusted my hands off, plopping myself down next to him. "Also true. I think they exist solely to vex us."

"Heh heh heh… Can't live with them—" Oghren's chuckles floated up from underneath the table. Alistair and I peered at him; we had no idea he was there.

"Can't live without them." We shared a grin before downing our drinks. How true it was.

Zevran

So Kiera and Leliana found the missions this Ignacio gave to be mildly entertaining, these assassinations seemed to provide the two the excitement (or rather distraction) they craved. I just went along, despite my misgivings, if only to watch over them—while looking over my shoulder the whole time. I sensed that _he_ was tightening the proverbial noose around me, but I tried to keep such thoughts from my mind—and enjoy the company the two lovely women provided. The _qunari_ seemed quite willing to follow on in silence, barely commenting on the ridiculously simple quests that we were given.

I still wondered what that word meant. _Kadan_—he still insists on referring to my _bella_ by that.

We had a long talk the previous night, stewing in the Gnawed Noble's Tavern; Leliana had returned to Daylen, as she did every evening. Kiera seemed unwilling to return to the Arl's estate in Denerim. I barely remembered how we even got around to _that_ topic, but we did, just the same.

"…Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care."

"And you… killed her?" Kiera's voice was a hoarse whisper. She was watching me levelly, but I didn't want to meet that gaze. It was… difficult to see another such as her, judging my past actions. I continued as if she hadn't spoken—what came next was damning in itself.

"Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her face for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."

"I'm… sorry." She had finished the wine, and listened intently, with her eyes cast down onto the tabletop. Perhaps she was regretting her decision to let me live? I had hoped that the Wardens would end it all for me.

"I… wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't had bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who had disliked me said so to my face. He said the Crows knew… and they didn't care. And one day my turn would come."

And it was true—the Crows were already in the city, as much as I wanted to avoid it, the Wardens would be dragged into this too.

"Did… you feel… guilty?"

"I felt empty, I felt as if I was nothing. I felt as if she had been nothing. You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? And then… this happened. And here I am." I finished with a smile; the mood was getting terribly serious, too much so for a jovial evening away from the templar.

My _bella_ barely glanced at me. She murmured, her eyes closed. "That is awful, Zevran. I'm so sorry."

"It feels good to speak of it to someone. I swore I never would. Whatever it is I sought in leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal."

And the mercy of her and her companions had showed me a life worth living, beyond Rinna's death—I felt as if I was protecting her through Kiera's well-being, that I wasn't a monster like the rest of the Crows. So this was what it was like to have actual friends.

The lovely girl opened her eyes and smiled enchantingly as she called for another round; Sten made a small noise of protest—he was annoyed by the amounts of intoxicating liquid we were drinking. She seemed to understand my situation perfectly. "And I am glad you are here, but you do not owe me anything."

"Ah… but I do." I muttered into my ale. Alistair was a very lucky man.

* * *

><p>P.S. Um… I'll post the next chapter up soon, working on it now! Man this is taking way longer than I planned. Please review when you're done, and thanks for bearing with me so far!<p> 


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35: Some New Clothes for Everyone!

A/N: Trying out a new way of spacing…. Does this make it more or less easy to read? (Suddenly I feel like an optometrist) Feedback please! xD I shall go and change all my other chapters if you prefer this format!

* * *

><p>Leliana<p>

Kiera had new armor made for all of us, and the new dragonscale leathers and dragonbone platemail were simply marvelous. Now I realized why we had taken on all those missions for the Crows, we needed the coin to pay for this _exquisite _equipment; and it was worth it, everyone looked gorgeous in them.

Daylen got into the new platemail, and the dark colour of the material contrasting the grey in his eyes. He had stopped whining about the added weight when he caught sight of himself in the mirror—he was astounded to see his own reflection.

"Wow. I do look dashing in this," he gasped, unable to take his eyes off the striking figure in the glass.

I agreed, it had added an extra _something_ about him, a manliness that made him that much more—handsome. There was a matching set made for Alistair, although it seemed that he wasn't as happy as he should be, watching the other girl with worry in his eyes. However, this disappeared when she turned to face him, and a smiled curled on _his_ lips when she spoke, marveling at the fit, running her hands over the fitted breastplate. Neither looked unhappy, but this semblance of normality wasn't very… authentic. I hoped that all was well, despite their distance.

Kiera had on Sophia Dryden's platemail, the white Warden emblem blazing on her chest—it had needed some refitting, and now it suited her just right. With her hair done up in a sensible ponytail, she definitely looked as if she meant business, all official and serious. Master Wade was most obliging with these; his ecstatic squeal when he laid eyes on the scales had said it all—we had gotten the armor as a steal.

All of this was just in time for the Landsmeet—a simply grand event when we would finally get to see the illustrious Teryn Loghain in the flesh. Daylen had thought of nothing else since the date was announced.

xOxOx

Alistair

The night was certainly going to be the least unrestful; I had hoped that I could finally get a good night's sleep before the morrow, but Queen Anora appeared to have been captured, and it was up to us, her direct rivals for the throne— to run to her aid.

It was also a chance for me to meet her, this Anora; Eamon had mentioned her in less than glowing terms, but Bann Teagan seemed rather approving of her leadership abilities. I wondered if it was too late to give up my claim to the throne, and leave it in her capable hands.

Glancing at Kiera next to me, her hair a dead giveaway in the moonlight, I wondered what she was thinking. She hadn't been amused by the whole affair, and had grimly agreed to the rescue whereas Daylen had scoffed. He had his suspicions that it was a trap, but came along anyway—as did Zevran and Leliana, none of them were trusting Kiera and I to sneak around Howe's estate by ourselves.

When the elven servant had stopped to show us the way in, gesturing to the disguise that we were to put on, Kiera only rolled her eyes, casting illusions over everyone. We were now the spitting image of nondescript guards on patrol within Howe's grounds, and Daylen smirked as the elf stared in disbelief. We entered the estate with little trouble, our disguises were perfect.

xOxOx

Daylen

"Doesn't anyone else find it kind of strange that the Queen's locked behind a door _by_ magic?" I whispered as we tried to look inconspicuous. So far, no one gave us a second glance. These men that Howe had hired were a little lax.

Zevran and Leliana had split up, if only to explore the place on their own. Who knew what incriminating evidence one could find that might discredit the sycophant at the Landsmeet?

"Apparently Howe likes to do things the hard way." Alistair muttered back—at least, it was his voice; the spell that had been put up made everyone look so… different.

When we finally reached the dungeons, it was hard to remain undetected, and Kiera dropped the illusion completely when we began engaging the guards—their surprise when we did was priceless.

"Hey! Whatchu doing—" The cry came when we charged forward, taking them unawares, and Kiera disabled these with a upward thrust of her blades, catching two of the guards in the belly. That strike was exactly as she had taught me, and appeared most effective.

I however, preferred to stay out of the range of such close quarters combat—my spells were serving me well against these men, none of them were spell casters. Yet.

Zevran and Leliana had cleared another path by themselves, and were picking locks on some of the cell doors. These were some difficult locks, and they took a while.

Kiera had simply gotten impatient with one of the cells, melting through the metal bars with a swift, agitated gesture. Alistair hid a smile as she did so, and helped the frightened man out of the hole she had created—he must be very brave—Kiera got really scary when she was angry.

The man she had released was a templar, who begged us to give his sister a memento—he was reduced to shambles, shuddering and muttering—the result of some really nasty torture. Alistair was left holding the man up when we all heard a scream, and yells coming from the hallway—echoing off the stones.

Kiera

I dashed out and followed the sound, the screaming came from a figure the guards were dragging off into one of the side rooms, and I just acted, didn't even stop to think—whatever it was, I was sure it wasn't good.

The door burst inwards from the force of the fireball, and I saw the figure was feminine, _she_ had managed to grab a sword in the confusion, squirming out of the guard's grasp, and sliced a couple of his fingers in the process. Not bad.

The girl's dark hair now hung in tendrils messily about her face, her robes almost torn into two in the struggle. She panted heavily, glancing sideways at me before fainting dead away, her words mouthing something that sounded like "_Wardens"_. Curious.

She crumpled into Leliana's arms as I lopped off the guards' heads—they'd only spat and clammed up, refusing to give any information. And yet, I was certain that we were close to Howe's location, the smell of blood intensified in the area, and I was sure that the man _would_ carry that damning aura with him—his ruthless interrogations had left so many crippled and plain dead in his wake.

Leliana tried to revive the girl in the room as Daylen, Zevran and I left— there was no time for this, the alarm would be raised at the next group of patrols, we needed to get to Howe and then the Queen before that happened. Meeting Alistair in the hall, we moved on ahead, coming across a familiar figure.

The man had snapped the neck of his guard when our intrusion distracted him, and Daylen fished out a key from the dead man's pockets, unlocking the door to his cell. The man made to move, but suddenly bent over in pain, and I realized that I knew him from Orlais—it was Riordan, a senior Warden who had tried to stop me from making my way to Ferelden.

I had hastily casted a sleep spell on the poor man as he made to close the gates on my horse, and he had hit the ground rather heavily. I hoped his nose was fine.

"I thank you for creating such a distraction stranger—" he began, straightening when Daylen soothed the aches with a sign. Riordan stopped abruptly when he recognized me, taking in my attire with a raised eyebrow. He was probably going to tell me to cut my hair again— I swear the man was just obsessed with making me look like a boy—the minute it grew past my shoulders…

Luckily, Alistair distracted him—so that I wasn't the sole focus of _his_ attentions.

"Hey, I know you—you were at my Joining!" he had exclaimed, evidently happy to recognize someone from his past. Me, not so much—Riordan was my mentor at Jader, he had taught me to wield the two blades and had nagged me incessantly about my duties as a Warden more than I cared for. Even so, I was relieved that he was here—and safe; I didn't have to feel quite so responsible with an actual Senior Warden around.

My former instructor gave a small bow, appraising the two other men with a smile. "Alistair, it's good to see you again. And you, you must be Duncan's last recruit. Yes, you match his description." I noticed that he had avoided making any mention of me while he answered Daylen's numerous questions—he was probably still brooding over that last incident. Hmph.

Alistair

"So… you're from Orlais too?" Daylen eyes flicked to Kiera, evidently curious that she had made no sound at the man's appearance. Her petulant pout made it clear—Riordan's similar silence on her being there hinted at a relationship that was less than friendly.

"I was sent from Orlais when we received no word from King Cailan—" His hollow eyes stared at Kiera pointedly, and she coughed, before looking away.

The man continued, the pain evident in his eyes, "The King had invited all the Wardens of Orlais and their support troops to join him, then… nothing." I recalled the battle at Ostagar—it was a massacre that had been made possible by Loghain's betrayal—a debt that I would call upon to be repaid before the Landsmeet was over. In that one stupid grab for power, he had caused Ferelden to lose its King, for me to lose everything that I cherished. Duncan.

"Can we move on now?" Kiera's voice was quiet, her face unreadable. "We still have a _Queen_ to save, and surely all of this can wait for later?" Daylen turned and gaped at her rudeness, while Riordan's manner stiffened slightly. She then walked on ahead with Zevran, both blades drawn, not even stopping to check if we were following.

"Are you coming with us, Riordan?" I asked, wishing that Kiera's footfalls weren't quite as fast—I barely heard them anymore.

The dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder, apparently also concerned for Kiera's safety. "I wouldn't be much use to you in my current condition. And, if you'll pardon me, I have a sudden desire to breathe some free air. I will seek you out later—after I find a good physician. And good luck… Brother."

Daylen nodded before sprinting after Kiera—we were both worried, especially when we heard the clanging of sword on metal; a fight had broken out again.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Can anyone guess who was the girl Kiera had rescued? xD Hope you like my take on Riordan!<p> 


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36: Who and Howe?

A/N: I'd apologize for the rubbish title, but I'm still a bit crazy from New Year's. Hope you like it—Landsmeet's the next chapter!

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

I hadn't meant to stalk off in that manner, but we needed a sense of urgency towards the more important things; things like the men who came at Zevran and me with blades raised and shields at the ready. Some life advice—when in doubt, throw yourself in a life-or-death situation— that was sure to clear one's head.

I slipped in under the man's defenses, cutting through the man's armor like it was butter. I felt his body go limp and slump to the floor—all of this repetitive killing made it hard to concentrate, hard to focus beyond the act of taking away the other's life. I had to keep reminding myself that we were here to _save _someone, and these men merely stood in our way.

Zevran whistled as the last man fell, looking at the carnage dealt around us. Howe had more people than we had expected; but most of them were more suited for fisticuffs in a dark alley than guarding his dungeons. We stepped around the bodies towards the locked door at the end, when Daylen caught up to us, gasping for air. I imagine that the platemail was starting to feel quite heavy—he wasn't quite used to wearing them yet.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked, and I nodded silently. I wasn't quite in the mood to talk. The sights in the dungeons did not help with my already foul humor—racks, torture devices that littered the rooms were terrible and most definitely covered in blood. The owner of this estate had certainly been busy.

We hurried on, and came upon another room and were shocked to find vicious mabari snapping at us, tearing out of the room with such speed—it was a reminder of how scary Loki could be, all frothing at the mouth and gnashing fangs. I shuddered a little when we slaughtered these, unable to help feeling sorry for the hounds—but these tender feelings disappeared when we came upon the man who was behind it all—_Arl_ (I refuse to call him a Teryn) Rendon Howe.

Daylen

He was a man who had a most hawk-like nose, as well as beady eyes that leered so— dressed up in leathers and armed for battle, he was most definitely expecting us, his voice a most prideful drawl.

"Well, well. The Grey Wardens. I must say that I'm surprised that Eamon would condone you invading my castle and murdering my men. Is he losing faith in the persuasive powers of his Landsmeet?"

Alistair and I remained silent; Kiera had said to leave the talking to her as soon as we met the man. The girl I had grown up with, emblazoned in her Warden Commander's platemail, stepped forward and spoke, her eyes hiding none of her boiling fury at the atrocities committed in the dingy surroundings. "We're here for Anora."

To my surprise, the man simply laughed— a thin, nasty sound that barely echoed off the walls.

"The traitorous bitch has _you_ under her thumb? Anora does love games. I'm surprised that she'd play with the likes of you. You three should have left when you had the chance, whoever you are—slunk off to the Anderfels to hide with the rest of your kind. This Landsmeet is a farce, Loghain will triumph and you will die." He seemed to be hiding his fear very well; the power that Kiera was quietly drawing in with each breath she took would have rattled even Greagoir—a terrible storm was brewing.

She moved as the numerous guards did, and had thrown one of her blades at the nearest thug, the edge slicing through wood and metal, pinning the man's shield to his chest as Zevran stabbed another who had gotten too close to us, within striking distance of our impressive leader. The single mage she had dispatched with the spell I had leant—mana clash, slamming the man into the floor with a crunch.

Alistair and I did our best, defending the rear from the sudden appearance of many more armed men, his shield a vital part of our defense, blocking the backwash from us even as the fireballs I had thrown exploded in the enclosed area. The skirmish soon ended, and we turned to see Kiera holding up Howe by his throat, her armor splattered by the blood of the men who had given their lives for him.

Zevran was watching her carefully, making no move to stop her—even I wasn't sure I could break through that black temper without losing an arm, or worse. She seemed to be questioning him, and his guttural laugh incensed her even more—a ripple of emotion flashed past that expression and Kiera raised her blade, before a dark ball dashed past and slammed into the both of them.

All three were now on the stone flagstones; the three of us men gaped in disbelief—as Leliana rushed in, muttering in Orlesian. Kiera was staring incredulously at the woman who now had her foot on Howe's throat, and _her_ blade in hand—it appeared to be the girl from earlier, who was now blinking back furious tears.

"My father trusted you—you bastard—" She seemed to be swaying slightly, but her sword arm was steady. I remembered something that Arl Eamon had mentioned, about Howe being responsible for the massacre in Highever— and I assumed that this was what the skinny girl was referring to; the man's treachery was indeed heinous.

Kiera suddenly had laid her hand on the girl's, nodding as she looked up nervously at the sword's owner. "If it makes you feel better." The girl gulped and turned her attention back to Howe's dreadful grin, stabbing him right through the heart, her whole weight driving the tip through the chainmail. It was done.

Watching the scene was painful—the girl had burst into relieved sobs, so I motioned Leliana to take her to safety in Eamon's estate, this was no place for the half-starved thing.

Alistair

We hurried our way to Anora's quarters again and were shocked when we were greeted by a sight of the Queen in the same shiny platemail that we had been offered as disguises. She had not seemed the least bit surprised to see us, almost as if she expected our rescue—based on first impressions, Anora didn't seem very nice.

She did her best to follow without making much noise, but the clanking of her shiny armor was really not suitable for such sneaking around. Even Zevran shook his head when we noticed the ruckus we were making on our exit—there was nothing we could do to stop that.

It was of not much surprise, that we then came upon a small army of people, who barred our exit with their sheer numbers—led by Ser Cauthrien, who I recognized as one who served that traitor at Ostagar. _Loghain_.

"Wardens! In the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy." Kiera glanced at us and signaled Zevran to lead the Queen away with a slight jerk of her head.

He had seemed alarmed, but obeyed her with some reluctance—she was going to lead us into battle against a room full of trained soldiers. I hoped she knew what she was doing. Daylen was also suspiciously quiet, and I realized that his hands were surreptitiously making little signs at the floor—miniature glyphs glowed as Kiera drew her swords calmly.

"Grey Wardens bow to no man. Death first!" Her words rang in the silence, and collective sounds echoed through the room; the 'snicking' of blades unsheathing, shields rising, the men were poised to attack.

"Bring them down! Loghain wants them dead or alive!" Cauthrien shouted as she gave the order to fight, but we were ready for them— the haste spells Kiera had casted on us made us twice, no—three times as fast as any other in the room.

She had directed me to the single mage accompanying them, and him I disabled with a smite, my shield catching several others in one swipe, slow as they were in this battle. Daylen was rapidly freezing the archers, as Kiera moved to advance on their leader, tearing apart the enclosed formation the men had thought to surround us.

The tiny glyphs activated when the men came within three feet of Daylen and I, and a foul-smelling gas erupted at their feet, encasing us in smoke, allowing us to fight back even before any of them could draw breath to cough from the rising miasma. Sword and magic fighting side by side, the men very surely fell before us.

The battle finally ended when Kiera had bested Cauthrien, leaving her lifeless on the floor—her prowess with dual-wielding and even _casting_ was unrivalled; I now knew the stuff of which the old legends of the Grey Wardens were made of. Men and women like _her_.

The bodies of about thirty soldiers now lay around us, and we followed closely as Kiera pushed open the doors, taking a deep breath of the chilly night air. It was finally over.

xOxOx

Kiera

The first thing I did when we reached the vicinity of Denerim's Market District was to seek out Riordan; my mentor who had looked so frightfully ill at Howe's. Thankfully, he had found his way to Eamon's without trouble, and I'd found him resting his head against the stone wall in the main hall.

Quickly, I slipped away into our companion's quarters, seeking out the one person who would be able to diagnose the symptoms of his apparent poisons; Wynne. She had fallen asleep by the fire, her finished scarves strewn on the carpet—and as loathe as I was to wake the elderly mage, I needed her help. She had sat up and yawned delicately, following my insistent gestures and babbling without complaint, approaching Riordan (who seemed barely able to open his eyes) as I stood a distance away.

After a few long minutes, Wynne finally turned to me with a small smile on her face; my ex-teacher was evidently going to recover with some rest and well prepared poultices. It was such a relief, but I couldn't let him know that I'd fussed over this. He'd make fun of me again.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Please review! xD Thanks for reading!<p> 


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Landsmeet in the Evening

A/N: I have a knack for terrible puns. 'nuff said. Keep reading and reviewing okay? xD

* * *

><p>Alistair<p>

It was almost daylight again by the time Kiera and I had retired to bed, her concern for Riordan's well-being most touching and familiar. She had crept in mutely, still slightly damp from her bath before sagging sideways onto the soft sheets of the bed, while I pretended to be already asleep. Within moments, her breathing slowed and she was in a deep slumber, nestled in her little corner of the bed. Watching her at my side was gratifying; the nights were long when she was away on her excursions with Leliana and Zevran, but tonight, she was _here_. Finally. I slipped my arm around her small frame and pulled her closer, away from the edge of the mattress—breathing in her scent, and reveling in her nearness. Thank the Maker for small pleasures.

It was almost midday when my eyes snapped open again and I found the bed again devoid of her presence; and this was when the door opened, and Kiera walked in with a basket of food. She didn't need blood magic to read minds, simply put, I was ravenous. Yet her manners seemed hesitant, almost afraid, her eyes flicking warily to mine as she watched me wolf down the bread and cheese. I offered her a piece, hoping that it would bring a smile back to her face, and I only succeeded in making it worse.

"Alistair— we need to talk." Those words carried awful connotations, their triggers endless and possibilities depressing. She was still avoiding my eyes even as the lump of food that now suddenly became rock, and stuck in my throat.

"It's about the Landsmeet… It might be better for us to come to a… _compromise._"

The food suddenly dislodged itself, and I blurted "With Loghain? No!"

"Not him—Anora." She flinched when I set aside the food—I think she expected me to do something violent.

"You've… spoken to her already?" Evidently I was being left out of a lot of things around here.

"Yes. Alistair—listen… We'd have a much higher chance of stopping this civil war with her as an… _ally_."

"An ally how? " I really did not like where this was going.

"As… queen?" Kiera was biting her lip, and something in my head clicked.

"Wait—you want me to give the throne to her?" This I heartily agreed with, but I didn't think Eamon would approve.

"No, that's not it—Alistair… With you as King and her as… your queen, the Landsmeet has no reason to fall in with Loghain—" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"You want me to MARRY Anora?" I found myself standing, food forgotten and dressed only in underclothes— feeling absolutely miserable as Kiera scooted further away, seemingly terrified of my reaction. She remained wordless, watching me warily as I sat back down on the bed; my head hurt.

I needed to know what she thought—did she plan this all along? "What about us?"

"I… didn't think about that. It's up to you, really." She seemed to deflate visibly, covering her face with her hands. For some reason, I remembered the last time she did that—at Redcliffe, after we had saved Connor. Her ears were red too.

Silence filled the room, until I couldn't bear it any longer—she seemed ready to bolt. "Will you still stay with me?"

Kiera looked at me, confusion in her eyes. "…stay?"

"With me." Did she think I'd drop her for Anora? I was planning on getting my way after I became King. Everyone looked out for themselves; and it was time I did too.

"You want me to stay?" Why was it that such incredulity filled those lovely sky-blue eyes?

"Is that too much to ask?"

"No—I want to. Stay. With you." These halting words couldn't hide the fact that she was secretly overjoyed.

"I love you." Those words came easily now, but I didn't think she heard, for Kiera had pounced on me, flinging her arms around my neck as I said them. We fell back onto the bed and I briefly wondered if we were going to be late. It didn't matter now. Some things were more important.

xOxOx

Daylen

It was a while before Kiera and Alistair emerged from their room, and even Anora noticed the glow that settled around the pair, her lips pursed disapprovingly when they made their sheepish greetings. Some people got territorial fast; perhaps it was because Alistair really looked a lot like Cailan? His hair had gotten a bit long since Ostagar, the resemblance was uncanny at times. I also noticed that their hands were linked, but quickly let go when they found everyone staring. These two.

The girl we had rescued from Howe's estate turned out to be one Elissa Cousland, daughter of the Late Teryn of Highever. Her brother had been lost since Ostagar. She was determined to go with us to the Landsmeet despite her condition, her strength of will seemed to be the only thing (besides food) keeping her on her feet.

"We've taken care of the problem in the Alienage," Leliana whispered in my ear as she hurried forward with some papers—they had left on their own accord when the sun rose, unwilling to wait for the three exhausted Grey Wardens who had taken on a small army of Loghain's men the during the night. I couldn't believe that _he_ would even work with slavers in order to fund his private war, the man was indeed crazy.

It was clear; we all knew that Loghain had to pay for _everything_. And yet death didn't seem a very appealing option. It was too easy.

xOxOx

Loghain

It was over—the fates had turned against me. I had lost the duel as surely as I had lost my blade, disarmed in a swift strike, the only one _she_ had gotten in past my defense. It was truly the downfall of Ferelden, the Wardens had succeeded in taking the throne, this _Orlesian_ woman—the warrior who had defeated me made sure of that. When her helm had been knocked off, it was plain for all to see who she resembled; the last Empress of the Orlesian Empire, and yet she rose again, disarming me in my disbelief.

The blow I had dealt her left a welt on her cheek, but that healed steadily when she touched it tenderly—she was a mage, above all things, a _mage_ had defeated me in a duel. I must be getting old. The accusations by the Wardens were without a doubt true, but done with the hopes of acquiring what we really needed—funds for a civil war that would protect the country of my birth. Was that so terrible?

I didn't have anyone else to blame, my fury at Cailan had resulted in that massacre at Ostagar, my suspicions of the Grey Wardens now seemed so unfounded as the Blight's blackness swept the land into further chaos. Alistair very understandably wanted me dead; it was his right as King, to demand a repayment of that blood debt that I owed Ferelden.

It has been said that a person's life flashes past his eyes when faced with certain death. I only saw Maric, the boy, my friend, staring back at me. Everything I did—I had reasons—the Wardens were a danger, they've always been; their aim to control the throne and killing all who stood in their way.

And yet, the words that issued forth from the Orlesian's lips—they were ones that called for a chance, my chance, to redeem my actions at Ostagar, to turn my blade against the evil that now threatened the land. She had promised my own daughter the throne alongside Alistair, and stood firm against the Landsmeet, offering my _soul_ salvation. How ironic.

Her appearance had shaken the Landsmeet to its roots, the nobles were now muttering, voices which grew louder and in consternation about the threat that _she_ alone represented. Another person spoke, and his voice overrode the others, it was the other Grey Warden, the Circle mage. He stood alongside this Kiera and addressed the hall.

"I hope you people understand that there is a _Blight_—and whether you like it or not, _we_ are all that stands between Ferelden and certain doom. We are the last line of defense, and that is our _only_ priority. All we ask is that Loghain joins the Order, as a way for him to help us rebuild our ranks that he _decimated_ at Ostagar."

There was a collective intake of breath as the blasted nobles only stared at the man, unable to decide. It remained to be seen if their words would truly hold, over that of their new King.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but having Alistair freak out 2 times in the same chapter is too much for me. We're getting there!<p> 


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Landsmeet never again.

A/N: Short chapter again! Oh well. Alistair's getting on my nerves.

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

And so we were two against a room full of self-centered, ridiculous nobles who thought that the Blight was less important than their personal grievances against Loghain; I couldn't let Kiera face that alone. It was true that the man she had beaten was responsible for the fiasco at Ostagar, Howe's shameless clutching for power, as well as the slavers in the Alienage—which was why I believed that he had to redeem himself before he should be allowed to die. It was a poetic justice I sought in inducting Loghain into the Order; serving the ones he had betrayed.

"Whatever it is, executing one such as him when we have the Blight hanging over our heads is short-sighted, his crimes will not go unpunished as he will pay for what he has done in service of the Grey Wardens."

Alistair didn't feel the same; I couldn't really blame him, but his words were harsh and unrelenting.

"You want _him_ in the Order? He was the one who single-handedly destroyed it! How can you even—"

Kiera stood firm, her arms were crossed as she eyed Alistair. It suddenly seemed as if the hall was empty except for the two of them, their exchange heated and suddenly personal. "Alistair, I can understand that—"

"You weren't there. You didn't see the devastation that occurred. How can you claim to know that you somehow _understand_ the things we saw, nay, felt at Ostagar? _You're not even Ferelden_."

She seemed to reel from that last line, the whites of her eyes now so visible in her widened eyes. Kiera bit back her rising temper, but she still sounded hurt. I had to do something soon.

"Yeah well… I guess that makes me _not_ subject to the whims of the _Ferelden_ _Senior Warden_ then. I will conscript him."

His reply was cold and final. "_You_ have no authority here." Something in me snapped, watching the two of them argue over a man who wasn't worth it, not to mention that everyone seemed to be entranced by the fight between the two.

"I'll conscript him then. You'll have nothing to say to that—King Alistair?"

"What? Daylen… I… then I refuse to be a Brother to that person. I will be leaving the Grey Wardens."

"Fine."

We left the main hall, as the Landsmeet concluded with a deafening roar of whispers—nobles who couldn't even wait for the royals to leave before breaking into frantic discussions about the scandal we had created. Kiera was mute and her footsteps rapid as she practically ran down the stones that made up the stairs to the immense castle.

Sten and Oghren were waiting back at the estate with Morrigan, and we couldn't wait to reach it sooner—the Denerim Palace was getting on our nerves. The two had finally sidled up next to Kiera, and proceeded to speak with Kiera caught in the middle. Their intentions were clear; if a little strange at first.

"Zevran, I saw you looking at that girl in town earlier. What did you think of her?" Leliana's musical tone was light and engaging—it was her 'bard' voice, used specifically to enthral her audience. I like to think that I am immune to it.

The elf grinned as Kiera looked up at them, curiosity piqued. I swear I still didn't understand the allure his conversations had—this too, Wynne also agreed. Loghain simply followed behind with Riordan.

"My dear Leliana, which girl? I saw many and I watched them _all_." His smug grin was a little irritating. I settled myself with listening in on their little threesome, it was irresistible.

"You know, the one with the... with the shoes!"

"The shoes. Yes, good reference." I looked up to find the three begin to walk arm in arm. Kiera couldn't possibly stay upset for long.

"Well, she also had blond curls worn in a long braid."

"A braid? Oh, that one. Yes, I remember her. I rather like blondes," he winked at my best friend as she blushed delicately, pulling away from the two. Her ears were burning, and I suspect that it was not from that come-on, but something that involved our newest King.

"So, what did you think? You seemed quite enthralled." Leliana caught hold of her, skipping ahead while the elf followed.

"Well, she was... quite marvellous... except for the butter face."

"_The butter what?"_ The two women had asked in unison, and Zevran smirked when Kiera realised that she too had responded to their banter. She was caught in their little scheme, and her feet came to a halt while she waited for Wynne and I to catch up. She seemed embarrassed.

The man chuckled as he replied, stalking past her. "Butter face. Everything's marvellous but her face."

I admit this made everyone laugh; he had a knack with the right words.

"You're a bad man."

xOxOx

Alistair

The carriage was slow, the horses took a really long time to feed and get harnessed to the part with the wheels; and I had hoped that we'd get to Eamon's and back before they even reached the estate. I didn't know if I could face them a second time today; I felt like a massive jerk at the Landsmeet.

And yet, she said she _knew_ Duncan. She _knew_ that Loghain had to pay—and she _rewarded_ him by offering him a place in the Order _he_ had worked so hard to discredit? I didn't understand, nor did I ever want to. This, I didn't think I could forgive—even if I privately thought that giving her up was the worst decision that I could ever make.

Daylen puzzled me a little; I mean I knew that he would take _her_ side (he had done so on several other occasions) but the way he had responded to Riordan's offer had at first seemed inclined to just let that scum die. Why would he even allow Loghain to join the Order?

The woman next to me was more than a little annoyed at my little performance at the Landsmeet. She had remained silent when Daylen demanded her father's Joining, an odd look in her eyes which followed Kiera as she left the hall in a huff. Anora had gotten what she had wanted, it seemed—her father was alive, the throne was hers (half, really, I wasn't feeling quite up to ruling just yet) and she was going to be married again. To me.

Eamon seemed to be the only one who was truly happy about the events of the Landsmeet, a smile had crept onto that bearded face, visible in his eyes. Something felt amiss when we finally reached the estate for the rest of my things; and this became evident the moment Kiera walked into the courtyard, the rest of the party close behind her. I'd rather think that Eamon planned this.

xOxOx

_She had crept out of the bedchamber when Alistair had fallen asleep, jolted awake by an uneasiness that had prickled at the back of her neck. She had to seek out Riordan, something wasn't adding up in her mind, and had only made sense when she fell asleep. He confirmed her suspicions; Grey Wardens were needed to end the Blight simply because they were the only ones who could. Someone had to die for the Blight to end; the soul of the archdemon could only be destroyed completely with the soul of another Warden._

_She knew then that it was imperative that she had to get Alistair out of the way, and the first step to that end would be for him to marry Anora. Riordan had the materials needed for one more Joining—and that honor would be left to… Loghain._

xOxOx

Morrigan

The atmosphere was vaguely hostile, for it seemed that the idiot templar and his new fiancée (the Queen, no less) were at odds with the rest of our charming party. Kiera and the others seemed eager to avoid the royal entourage, escaping to their rooms while the Arl demonstrated his fine hospitality. Nobles were a nonsense bunch, their priorities beyond that of what was important, and to put _that one_ on the throne, well—it would seem that Ferelden was doomed.

It was mildly irritating that Sten remained out of my grasp, his lilac eyes following her when she moved—perhaps the _qunari_ was attracted to her? It would seem so, but neither knew of it yet. Power beckons to both, it seems, even as I found myself drawn to Daylen; beneath that attractive veneer lay a mage who wouldn't hesitate to rain hellfire upon his enemies. Most interesting.

* * *

><p>P.S.: Thanks for keeping up with the story so far—I know it hasn't been easy x_x<p>

Thanks again for reading!


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Joining

A/N: This chapter depresses me. So very close to the end.

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

It remained to be seen whether Loghain would survive his Joining—Kiera suspected that it had something to do with a person's will to live, or Riordan's theory on survival being partly biological. I wanted to believe that that the Maker himself had a hand in choosing those who would survive the taint. If Loghain failed, he wasn't worthy.

And yet, images of the other recruits at my own Joining floated in front of me while I stared at the goblet; Daveth had seemed nice, he had been determined to fight the Blight, but Jory was plain… cowardly.

I had been too shell-shocked to resist the suspicious drink, trusting Duncan even then—I knew him only as the man who had rescued me from Greagoir's wrath. Those words he had uttered echoed as Riordan recited them for Loghain, whose rage bubbled beneath his controlled movements; having the two Orlesian Wardens in front of him were testing his apparently _patriotic_ beliefs.

"_Join us brothers and sisters._

_Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant._

_Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn."_

Kiera's voice was hollow as we muttered the final few words together; the same few that Alistair had done for mine. Her voice was surprisingly steady, considering that the Landsmeet had definitely shaken her up something bad.

"_And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten._

_And that one day we shall join you."_

Our eyes met when we concluded that line, and as I tried to keep the vindictive hate I felt for Loghain out of mine, I saw despair in hers—something that made her look away. I wanted to hurt Alistair—badly.

xOxOx

Loghain

_The whispering that I heard, the darkness that surrounded me; hints of chaos, menace, death to the world. Was this what it meant to be a Grey Warden? It was this tiny effervescence that kept eating away at the humanity that was left behind, the bubbling in my blood. The dark things spoke, and I heard them—not really hearing them with my ears, but they were in my head, twisting every thought with a vicious ease. Was this what they faced every day? The threat of ultimate destruction in their thoughts; defending the world from the things that were also in their heads? All by an Order of three. It seems… that I might have misjudged them. _

I found myself gasping awake, clawing at the air as I bolted upright, and the cold grey eyes which regarded me belonged to the Circle mage, Daylen. He scowled fiercely before he left, and I heard shouts coming from the room next door; even as the Orlesian Warden—Riordan tried to make conversation.

"Ah… you're awake. Normally this would be an occasion where the senior wardens of your nation would give you more information about the Order… but today, this duty has fallen to me—" Even he stopped when the voices from the other room grew increasingly louder.

"I don't care about him—I care about you! Kiera—"

"Marry Anora—you're King. Will you just—move on?" Was Alistair intending to set my daughter aside for the Orlesian wench? _She_—at least, did not care for his affections.

"Move on? You said you'd stay—"

"Well I changed my mind—women _always_ do that, don't we?"

"Oh come on, you know I didn't mean it _that_—"

"So how _did_ you mean it?"

"That Loghain should have died today—he has to pay for—"

"Enough. Alistair—you have your place in society now. That… should be enough."

And then, there was a hushed quiet. The Grey Warden stared at the wall, almost as if his eyes could see through the thick stone, before returning his attentions to me. Youth.

xOxOx

Zevran

For a while, there was only silence coming from that room. Alistair left, but Kiera hadn't. Daylen had immediately gone off in search of that blasted king, but this meant that my _bella_ was momentarily alone. Knocking as I entered, I found her staring at the last embers in the fireplace, from which fresh logs had burned themselves down to ashes in the space of five minutes; the room was very warm. Her reddened cheeks were wet, her manner pained as she tried to dry them before turning to me.

"Zevran... Not now."

"I just wanted to thank you about that business with Taliesen in the alley from earlier."

"You know that you don't have to thank me—he was after the _mighty Grey Wardens_ too. Even Riordan said so. You people saw him in action— he taught me all that."

"Yes well...that was merely a conversation starter. A beautiful woman should not be left alone...ever." I was touched to have earned a tiny smile, but that too was strained and short-lived. I would gladly have gone after that templar had if... but someone needed to stay, with Kiera, and Leliana was more than capable of restraining Daylen.

xOxOx

Daylen

I was waiting for him— _he_ ran right where I thought he would; the commotion had ended and I knew that somehow, Alistair would be the first to emerge. He was king, but that didn't matter to me as I hit him, hard, coating my hand with rock armor so that he would feel it through that blasted dragonbone. This caused a very satisfying dent. But when he got up I couldn't help myself, I threw another punch, but barely scraped his cheek as he narrowly avoided the blow.

"Daylen... Before you hit me again—"

"I don't want to hear it." I snapped; I was now holding a large ball of magefire, its eerie blue flames casting tints in the hallway. Templar or no, he was going to suffer.

"_We're_ _fine_, Daylen. Kiera says she'll stay, with me."

"What?" This I did not expect. What did he mean stay?

"After the Blight. We might have our differences, but—"His voice was bright and cheery; at least, it was, before I bloodied his nose. That Therin nose.

"You're marrying Anora." I said this flatly, just in case he hadn't realised this fact just now. The flames extinguished with a sigh.

"Yes... but..."  
>"And you want her to remain as your <em>mistress<em>?" I couldn't believe what I heard; these two seemed to be the stuff of love stories; one an illegitimate heir and the other a mage princess. And here he was... Hand clapped to his face, indignant and determined.

"I'll be king. No one can make me do what I don't want to. I'm not giving her up, not after all we've been through."

I raised my fist again, but this time he caught it before I could strike him, with an exasperated air.

I pulled my arm away; he needed to know just how much he was hurting Kiera by doing all this. "Wait, before you open that royal mouth of yours again, just wait. You need to know how much of an idiot you really are." He stared at me, vaguely annoyed, but thankfully silent.

"Do you know how much it took for her to even speak to anyone at the Tower when the Templars who brought her came and left? _A month_. She was mute for a month because that was how long it took for her to get over it."

"Kiera doesn't say much, but she just gives in. She didn't speak to me for another week afterward when I mentioned Orlais in _passing_. She might look perfectly fine, but she isn't." The man in front of me tried to speak, but words failed his already limited eloquence.

"So let me get this straight, you want her— that girl who has been disappointed her whole life, you want her to watch when you and that woman get married, have children, and all the while she will be reminded that she just wasn't good enough because she was a mage and a Warden?" Alistair opened and closed his mouth, seemingly confused. I felt no pity for him.

"All because you _love_ her? You're just too selfish to admit that you want the _best of both worlds_. Your throne _and_ Kiera."

He could only manage a weak syllable. "I..."

"Alistair— you might be the king of Ferelden, but you'll _never_ be good enough for _her_."

I said what I had to say, and left— having meant every word. Kiera was very vulnerable, to have agreed to that...that arrangement. I wanted to have a word with her, to scold her into sanity— only to meet Leliana on the way, an odd look in her eyes.

xOxOx

_I hated the Grey Warden motto; it disturbed me to find how selfless people expected us to be, and even if we did our best to uphold it all, it was sometimes not a good enough reason._

_In War, Victory. We had to fight, and by the Maker, fight so that we win. Nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. Victory was the ultimate goal. _

_In Peace, Vigilance. Standing guard when we weren't needed, and soon mankind will forget what we once stood for._

_In Death, Sacrifice. This irked me the most—out of the three; giving life up in the name of mankind, defending everything even if no one else cared. What was it that made our lives subject to become offerings to an unknown god, a purpose that everyone takes for granted, a moot point in any case._

_We were the tainted, we were the colour that stood between dark and light—we were the unsung heroes that everyone forgot; we were Grey Wardens._

* * *

><p>P.S.: *is actually quite worried of how people will view this Alistair* Please review!<em><br>_


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Two Steps More.

* * *

><p>Loghain<p>

In the month that followed, the mages began training at dawn; Daylen seemed almost determined to emulate that Orlesian mage, wanting to fight in the heavy black platemail now marked by the insignia of the Grey Wardens. We took our meals together, but few words passed between us. This Kiera was very quiet, but even she took the time in giving me rather hopeful glances, instead of the baleful glares _he_ kept shooting my way.

She was well-liked, I decided— her words innocuous and devoid of even the deceitful Orlesian inflections. A mere child, but inducted a year before into the Order. And yet, nothing could stop my envisioning her as the scion of the last Imperial Empress— her likeness to Éléonore was uncanny.

The ice truly broke when we left for Redcliffe from Denerim, and took the same watch even though no one seemed willing to leave us alone. Her amused demeanour shamed them and they went to bed without protest; she seemed less like a warrior and more like a normal girl without her platemail.

"Why do you not fight with staves, mage?" I watched her busy around, covering the hound with a small blue blanket before returning to her bedroll by the fire, her gentle treatment spoke volumes of her true disposition.

She turned slowly, astonishment clear on her face, "Are you… actually _talking_ to me?"

"Do you see anyone else?" I admit that I had avoided speaking to her for a very long while, bordering on rude at times.

"Fair enough. Mages can cast magic even without staves, and since I've already been trained with swords by Riordan, I figured I might as well use them."

"I see." She was also very matter-of-fact about a lot of things, it made conversations very direct and easy.

Kiera settled onto the ground before taking out a small book, trailing her fingers along the spine almost tenderly. "You know, you're a great warrior, Loghain. One of the best I've met."

"You're not so bad yourself, _mage_."

She chuckled, a gentle sound of amusement. "Thank you. I try my best."

"You are Orlesian? Why are you here in Ferelden?"

"If you ask Riordan, he'll tell you the whole story, including the part where I stole a horse. In short, I was—still am—impetuous."

"That _is_ the common characteristic of youth." She acceded to that, tilting her head slightly, but not without hesitance. She reminded me of someone, a long time ago, youthful, tempestuous, and sometimes, self-doubting.

"Tumultuous love lives seem to be key," Kiera noted, referring no doubt, to her relationship with the current king. She eyed the tents that housed the royals and their army, before sitting down with her back to them.

"So... What's it like being a parent?"

I raised an eyebrow, she seemed to be curious, rather than spiteful, and genuinely so.

"What?"

"Grey Wardens have a much lower chance of conception, apparently. It's not every day I meet one who already has a grown child."

"Why do you want to know?" In truth, I was at a loss for words; I couldn't quite remember anything beyond Anora's childhood—Gwaren was so far from here.

"Is it fulfilling—right—er… too personal. Never mind." She then bent over the pages of her book, and it seemed, for a moment, that I caught a flash of something in her eyes.

Her next request startled me, just a little. "Hold still. I want a portrait of you too."

xOxOx

Daylen

Kiera stood over the ogre's carcass before reaching down, yanking the blades that stuck out its chest, cleaning them on a spare piece of handed these to me, seemingly distraught- her hands were trembling slightly.

These had belonged to Duncan; I remembered following the glow reflected off them when walking to Ostagar. I was elated at having escaped the Tower, but only barely so, the glow reflected off them had made the journey like a dream that was fleeting and unknown.

I focused on her small figure, stalking between the bodies without a word. She then set the darkspawn corpses aflame, having stripped armor off several of them. These foul things had been wearing Cailan's golden platemail, seemingly mocking our futile efforts from months ago.

We walked back together in the pitch blackness, to the body of our fallen king, preserved in the Kocari Wilds by the freezing onslaught of winter. Loghain and Sten had hoisted it off the impalements and built a funeral pyre with surprisingly little argument, apparently warned by Kiera's dark looks.

"So King Cailan had meant to set Anora aside," Kiera muttered, reading the papers we had taken from the royal chest in the remnants of the camp. I could still see the bright flags from the various tents, fluttering in the wind, interposed over the rags that waved where tents once stood. It was eerie to have come here, months after that fateful day.

"For whom?" Loghain's voice was solemn but not surprised, taking the letters from her. He had seemed to have warmed up to her considerably, but I was still not on speaking terms with him. I couldn't. I saw only his propensity for betrayal, even now.

Both of them brooded over the contents, silent; Celene and Eamon were making no friends amongst us.

"Orlais." Loghain huffed, but seemed intrigued by Kiera's equally frustrated reaction; he was the only one who had not truly understood her relations to the present Empress.

"So... What are we going to do about the armor?" I asked, gingerly following the fuming pair. Sten's impassive presence wasn't helping, either.

"We give it to charity," Kiera called back— her flat voice bringing a smile to our faces. We were going to leave it to the king's disposal; he would decide its fate.

Sten carried the shining bundle with an almost droll expression, having hefted it without waiting for anyone to tell him so. I wondered why he allowed himself to be used so, realised that I didn't really want an answer— Leliana's insinuations still rang clear in my ears.

I... Wasn't in love with her, I mean Kiera. I had liked her once, but not since. I was very sure of that.

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: Thanks for reading! Short chapter again. Please review okay? :D<p> 


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41: Wicked Grace

* * *

><p>Daylen<p>

We arrived back at the main camp in good time, and found our companions playing cards; Riordan and Zevran were apparently winning, whilst Leliana and Oghren seemed downright drunk—Wicked Grace took a toll on one's ability to think with an increased emphasis on its doubling bets and forfeits, which were in this case, flagons of alcohol. Did we even carry that much alcohol with us?

"I can't believe you guys got started without us!" Kiera grinned as Leliana swayed tipsily and flung her arms around my neck, kissing me. I think I might get inebriated just by the taste of alcohol on her lips.

I saw Kiera pull her mentor to the side, speaking rapidly in Orlesian, to which Riordan only shuffled his feet—looking sheepish. What was it that bothered her so? It was then Leliana decided to drag me into her tent—and I knew no more—some things were more… _pressing_.

Riordan

Kiera was quite the bluffer, but even that was no match for the three of us—the assassin, Loghain and I were on a streak. Mostly because I was cheating, dealing the assassin and myself winning hands while Loghain made some very surprising combinations with the ones he had. Who would've known that the Hero of River Dane was quite the master at Wicked Grace? Most surprising.

Three games of accumulated forfeits and my dear student was giggly— unable to focus on the cards she held in her unsteady hands. She was surprisingly clear-headed though, catching my deft shuffling with a sudden grab with her misleadingly fragile-looking fingers.

"So this is why Aiden never plays cards with you—cheater." She pouted as she leant over, stray tendrils of her light gold hair catching the wavering light of the fire. I noticed how the elf on my left was staring at her, seemingly mesmerised by her slightly flushed cheeks. She certainly had no small amount of suitors.

"Ah… you caught me." I couldn't resist smirking, it was a relief to find that she had plenty of people willing to protect her, even in a world that had been so cruel to one so innocent. Aiden had certainly made the right call, letting her join the Order of 'way too many old men'.

I was not entirely pleased when she chose me as her mentor, but had been taken in by that very same pout that enthralled Zevran. She turned out to be a most tenacious student, despite the initial clumsiness with her feet, and was now a young woman who fought like a champion—never backing down from a fight. I had taught her well, if I do say so myself. Heh.

"That's it. I'm not playing this anymore." Kiera narrowed her eyes, sitting back down with a plop and I heard the elf swear under his breath, frustrated. _Antivans._

"Fine. You'll take first watch then?" I got to my feet as she nodded, without another word. Loghain and I were to take second watch with the charming white-haired mage, so that Daylen and the Orlesian girl could have all the time they needed. Carpe diem indeed.

xOxOx

Alistair

The jovial fun that went on in their part of the campsite was envied by the guards; they looked over in that direction from time to time, grumbling under their breath and shuffling their feet in the cold. I agreed; it was definitely more fun over there. Anora and Eamon kept dragging me into their little political meetings, their discussions revolved around future events—beyond the Blight. These two were already assuming that we'd survive the archdemon and the horde combined.

I had faith in us—I mean _the Grey Wardens_— (which I was no longer a part of) and I was content to blame him, Loghain, but I couldn't ignore the fact that I had effectively pushed her—them away, distancing myself in my rage. I still felt it—my blood practically boiled whenever someone mentioned him, and sometimes even seeing Anora reminded me of his actions at Ostagar.

If only we could trade him for Duncan. Then we'd slay the archdemon and live happily ever after. The end. But no.

At least Kiera was staying. That was the one thing I looked forward to when the Blight ended, we would be happy, despite Daylen's inexplicable outburst. _She_ understood.

xOxOx

Zevran

And so, we got Kiera to join us in the fun; her drink-induced impish smiles that had returned made for a most wonderful first watch—the stress that once weighed heavily on her brow tossed aside for girlish giggling. Now if only we could get the _qunari_ intoxicated on the sweet wine Wynne had provided… even Morrigan had had a glass before she turned in for the evening.

"The people are… _nice_, but I'm so sick of Ferelden—" The girl mumbled as she flopped on her back, her hands raised as if to touch the stars that were sprinkled across the night sky.

I found myself watching her as she splayed her fingers and clutched repeatedly at the air, wistful in her gentle movements. "You could visit Antiva when it is all over, I'll be your _personal_ tour guide."

My _bella_ propped herself up on an elbow, nodded fervently before laying down again. "Nodding makes my head spin. But yes—I want to travel after all of this. If I can. Most likely not, but I want to. I need a break from Ferelden."

Her words struck me as being oddly ominous, but strangely enough, the _qunari_ interrupted my thoughts with his words, the first conversation he ever began with anyone, voluntarily.

"I knew one of your countrymen once, elf." I tore my eyes away from that fine figure which lay stretched out, curves and all.

"Oh? Have you been to Antiva, then?"

"No. Until I came to Ferelden, I had never left the islands. She came to Seheron twice a year with the traders who bought spices from the northern jungle. Only she among the traders would speak to the antaam. Questions about the rainforest, its depths, and the things to be seen there. We humored her. She was... an unfortunate soul."

It was the longest speech the _qunari _ had ever uttered to me, so I was intrigued. What had caused this sudden change?

"Unfortunate in what way?"

"She was a Crow, as you were. Sent to assassinate the _kithshoks_, leaders of the army of Seheron, for the Tevinter Imperium. We knew this, and pitied her."

"I'm surprised you did not simply slay her."

The odd, satisfied look in his eyes unsettled me greatly.

"There was no need. Her questions were meant to show her the way through the jungle towards our fortifications. And so one day, she snuck into the jungle to find her target. We found the pieces of her body in a tree, where the spotted cats kept them for later. We had never told her that our _kithshoks_ were the ones who negotiated all the trades at the port."

"Then she was a fool. That's not very sympathetic, I'm afraid." The _qunari _were a peculiar people.

"It was her ignorance we pitied, not her mistake. She believed we hoarded things we cared for as her own people do. We were sorry for her, that she thought only some people were important." That seemed to be the end of the conversation for I had nothing to say to that. Then I noticed that he was assiduously trying not to stare at my _bella_'s exposed navel.

So even with the templar out of the way, I had competition. _Braska__._

* * *

><p>P.S.: I hope I reach the end soon. Why is it that I keep procrastinating the ending?<p> 


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Archdemon

A/N: Hope you all aren't too bored by now! Hope you like the chapter!

* * *

><p>"<em>No. The Order is one made of equals. You shouldn't—"<em>

"_I am an old man—"_

"_You never used to say that. You're not old at all."_

"_The point is—it's almost my time—my Calling. It's near. As was Duncan's."_

"_So what? Don't you think—"_

"_What? You won't even let me die a glorious death?"_

"_How can you joke about this—now?"_

"_Everyone dies, child."_

"_It's a matter of time, I know. But still…"_

"_If I fail, you get your turn at being the hero. But __only__ if I fail."_

_There was a long silence as she regarded this. We both knew what that meant._

"…_I hate you."_

"_No you don't. You like me more than either of us would care to admit."_

xOxOx

Loghain

The archdemon loomed above, the stink of its breath wafting on every flaming breeze. The Orlesian girl went still, quiet as she regarded Riordan's body, her disbelief exhibited in her sudden silence. For a long moment, it was as though nothing got through to her; even Daylen's words of solace rang hollow.

She had sheathed her blades before bending down and dragging her mentor's body off to the side, tearing a flag from the fortress walls and covered it with reverence. She then knelt, and seemed to be saying a quiet prayer before continuing on forward without a backward glance.

The walls of Fort Drakon were thick and muffled much of the noise that went on the outside, but the eerie echoes from battles made it so that we were ever aware that more people were still fighting for Ferelden, and losing. The archdemon had to be slain, and soon.

The elf had also stalked on ahead, his lithe form following Kiera deeper into the Fort as Daylen and I followed behind, the four of us leaving darkspawn carcasses in our wake. We had a duty, to protect the land and its peoples, no matter the cost.

We had lost to the Orlesians once, but Maric and I had driven them out together.

Today, one of those Wardens from Orlais has given his life for a land that was once his home, while the other… What she was— still is— had made the final link for me, what had been so obvious in her delicate features. And yet it still seemed unbelievable that she would fight to help those who had broken free from the clutches of her family's rule— so this was why Eamon was adamant in keeping her and Alistair apart.

And yet her revulsion for Celene was most unexpected. Was this sibling rivalry? It did not appear to be quite so simple.

xOxOx

Daylen

I didn't know how he did it, but Sandal appeared to have taken on more than a dozen darkspawn by himself. Corpses littered the floor and these we stepped over, making sure they were truly dead.  
>Kiera had taken the rear, leaving me to lead; she made sure that the creatures couldn't take us by surprise.<p>

Loghain had seemed to take the news rather well, considering his hatred of Orlais— he protected Kiera from attacks despite himself, his shock at her birthright dissipating slowly. Riordan had called her Celeste last night, out of frustration, and Loghain had gaped, putting two and two to form the word 'princess'.

She in turn had almost punched Riordan; her sudden flash of fury had stunned us all. Sometimes, I found him staring, following her actions with scrutiny.

"_I am the most Senior amongst us— I will take the final blow upon myself."_

That had set her off, her words slipping between the common tongue as well as Orlesian, musical and rapid in the muted enlightenment that had dawned on Loghain and me. The archdemon's essence would kill the Warden who struck the fatal blow—"_in death, sacrifice"_ indeed.

"_You knew? Why didn't you say anything? Were you afraid that I'd just up and leave?" _

Kiera kept a blank face, just standing there as I yelled at her—she had known all along that someone had to die. Now I understood her decision to keep Loghain around, despite having lost Duncan to the man's folly. _He_ was proving himself useful, after all.

We hurried up the steps that led the way to the archdemon, its form contrasting starkly against the reddened sky.

They had refused Morrigan, their misgivings outweighing a chance at life—Loghain's voice loud against the witch's, her motives were clear and incredibly selfish. And yet, it was a promise that Kiera wouldn't die—I knew she meant to take the final blow upon herself in the event that Riordan failed.

I would have accepted Morrigan's offer had my best friend not intervened, her wave of flame tearing my door off its hinges—catching the two of us off guard. She had tossed Morrigan's robes at the woman— voice almost a _snarl_ while the air around her shimmered with the sheer intensity of her wrath, almost blazing from head to toe.

"Don't you want to live?" I demanded, not caring that I was dressed only in a shirt and my smallclothes. She was the one who had barged in.

"Not at the price of whatever she might have planned for the old god. The Grey Wardens do not stoop to bargaining to save their skins—Daylen." Kiera shook her head, shutting the door as she swept out of the room. Riordan had gone to make sure that Alistair didn't accept the offer either—while Loghain remained posted outside my door.

I was not thinking of saving my own skin. I wanted to save hers.

She had seemed so cold later that night, hunched down in Eamon's hall, shivering and staring into the burning hearth, unable to sleep. None of us could, not when _eternal_ _rest_ waited. Even Loghain deigned to keep a sort-of vigil with us, stoically leaning against the wall at the back of the room, the hostility that practically radiated off Kiera made me sit a distance from her—as she stared, hypnotised by the dancing flames. She hadn't spoken to me since. Neither did Leliana.

xOxOx

_When I was young I prayed to no god; no Maker, no Andraste to save me. I had my own prayer._

_Fire fire burning bright  
>Filling the room with flickering light<br>Tell me on this chilly night  
>The things you've heard, or of the slovenly sights-<br>That have transpired in your watchful glow.  
>A tussle perhaps, or a lover's vow?<br>Maybe a weaponsmith tempering a commissioned bow?  
>Before you fade away at the cock's screeching crow.<em>

_The gentlest embers pick out that I am here,  
>Comfort my nights from the dreams I fear,<br>The tender drying of my shedded tears.  
>The voice that crackles, yet provides an ear.<em>

_Recently, this murmur under my breath changed, ever so slightly._

_Fire fire burning bright,  
>Hark me on this silent night,<br>Gentle fingers that touch no more,  
>But yours cast light under his door.<em>

_The things I've murmured to the dark,  
>The whispers that have too long grazed my heart,<br>A whole that takes and never gives,  
>A gust that arrives but never leaves.<em>

_In recent times, I've found words that made my hopes more apt, clearer than I'd ever hoped._

_A gleam that surrounds those that I have lost,  
>A map that guides them to the north.<em>

_She says that I have, already failed,  
>That halfdressed demon with the really long tail<em>

_Offers of power that would change the fates,  
>An end that is joyful, or of different makes.<em>

_I never took accepted the demons and their ilk, frankly because something always held me back._

_But what I want, I do not know,  
>My childhood dreams are no window.<br>The skies might change, as the seasons will,  
>But I believe in a certainty still:<em>

_One might have the strength to mold,  
>But that arm demands a righteous hold,<br>One that shies no more from what is true,  
>One that takes not the strongest crew,<br>One that fights on, despite the past  
>One that defies those to the last.<em>

_The one that flees not, when the time comes,  
>the one that charges whilst taking up arms.<em>

_It was only until tonight that I realised that the only thing I believed in; _

_Fire fire burning bright,  
>Devour my doubts on this final night.<br>My faith's my own, and though my heart is tight,  
>Nothing will stop me from ending this blight.<em>

_Pride was sure to be my downfall, indeed. I only had faith in me._

* * *

><p>P.S.: Thanks for reading! *sniffs* we're near the end! So close! D:<p> 


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43: A Sacrifice.

* * *

><p>Zevran<p>

The beast was proving to be a challenge, its wingspan was definitely larger than the one we fought not so long ago, on that mountaintop. Interestingly enough, Kiera and Daylen took separate sides of the archdemon, focusing their spells at its feet and wings, keeping it grounded while Loghain and I stabbed at its iron flesh, all the while wary of its swinging tail.

I just realised that we spoke very little, and I attempted to begin some dialogue, despite our unfortunate surroundings. A little conversation to take the edge off, yes?

"So, err...is it Lord Loghain?"

The man grunted as we stepped clear from the blast of violet flame, barely glancing at me. "I am no longer a Teyrn, nor even a knight. Address me without a title, as you would any other Grey Warden."

"So just Loghain, then?" I kept my eyes open for any sudden movements from the massive creature, although still very interested in Loghain's reactions.

"Correct. Even though it might not be the best of times— what's on your mind?" I must admit that the smirk looked absolutely foreign on his face—emotion was a rare thing with him and the _qunari_.

The beast flapped its wings, tearing its limbs from the ice encasing its clawed feet—the gusts would have swept us off had Loghain not dragged us both behind some huge blocks of rubble.

"You know who I am, yes? I was one of the Crows you hired to kill the Grey Wardens."

A smile curled again on Loghain's face. He was rather dashing, even at this age. "I thought you looked familiar."

"Well, I just wanted to report that I failed my mission, Loghain." I peered out from behind the rocks, eyes searching for Kieran and Daylen. They appeared to be fine, for now.

There was laughter in that gravelly voice, "You don't say." It was nice to see that one could find humour at a time like this.

"Well… I'm terribly broken up over it."

He shouldered forward with his shield in front of him, the wry smile disappearing. "Hmm... Well thank you kindly for informing me."

xOxOx

_He beheld the bundle she had in her arms, amusement in his eyes. The man frowned slightly as Kiera unravelled the scarf, pointing to the silver embroidery she had done personally, the insignia that shone in the daylight. She seemed less sure of herself, worrying in the light of the coming battle. He leaned forward as he allowed her to drape it around his neck, warm as it was with its sincere and insulatory material. A grey warden scarf— he snorted to himself._

_Sentimental in nature, she was, for she had done the same for Riordan, who had laughingly accepted it, but declined to wear it in battle where mobility was key._

_Loghain touched the soft material absently and looked around at the party, all of whom were tying their own around their necks or waists dutifully. A uniform perhaps? How interesting._

xOxOx

Daylen

Wynne handed the brightly coloured material to her, silver and blue, the valiant colours that now adorned all of us. Kiera whispered her thanks, a raspy sound that stung those who heard, as if she'd been yelling. She had, mostly at me—barely moments before the royal procession arrived.

The scarves she slipped around the necks of our fallen comrades, her head bowed, no doubt hiding the tears that streamed down her already damp face. She wasn't quite ready to give a speech, so I did, but only when she was out of earshot- her steps were soundless and lonely as she hurried from the square.

Many turned to follow her path with stares and muttered various unseemly things under their breath. How little they knew, but how much they judged, disgruntled at the turn of things. These needed to be put to rights.

"Before us lie two men, who gave their lives as Grey Wardens, and delivered this land from the blight. Both of them natives, they died heroes, brave souls who are now at peace. One of them, a Warden from Jader and the other, a man who has redeemed himself."

At this, Alistair touched my shoulder, and I allowed him to continue, even as I saw his pain at the colours that showed our solidarity. We had opted to give Loghain the scarf that had been meant for _him_— the embarrassment on the former's face when Kiera had presented the woollen scarf to him had been priceless.

"Let us _never_ forget the men and women who have stood in the face of death and lived. Their actions in the Blight should be more than enough for us to call them _heroes_, figures of exemplar might and courage, enough so that we welcome them as those we hold dear, those that we are proud to fight _alongside_."

The people rallied as their new King spoke, his words reminding them of what we had gone through—tearing their attention away from Kiera's exit. She had to be feeling really terrible.

xOxOx

"_You want to protect her—elf?"_

_Loghain had startled Zevran with that question; his affections for Kiera were plain for all to see._

"_Yes."_

"_But you might earn her wrath. Would you risk that?"_

_The assassin chuckled. "I'd rather she lives and be annoyed at me than dead—so yes."_

"_I see. Please leave me and assist Daylen then. He will require your aid for this."_

_Daylen's spells were now kept to the minimum; he barely took his eyes off Kiera for fear of missing his chance. Nothing could go wrong now. The old man's plan might actually work._

_The storm that she conjured hit its peak, the lightning narrowly missing the dwarves as they backed away, on cue. Kiera unsheathed her blades, and was about to break into a sprint towards the downed beast, when the frost snaked its way across, trapping her feet and spreading up her torso within moments. She had dropped her blades in her panic, and began casting a fireball to thaw her body and the surrounding area, when Zevran appeared behind her and grabbed both her arms, forcing them down. She struggled, but could only watch, feeling the ice take her strength away._

_This was his moment._

_And all she could do was to watch his figure, crumpling slowly to the ground when his essence became drained by the archdemon's. With a roar, she wrenched herself away from the efforts of both men, speeding over to the empty shell—all that was left of the Hero of River Dane. She cradled his head, closing her eyes against the hot tears that fell._

_He had done it. And she hated how everyone wanted to protect her. She didn't need it._

_Dammit, Loghain. _

xOxOx

* * *

><p>P.S.: I realise that my chapters are getting shorter. Not to worry, the next one will be a long one. Thanks for reading thus far!<p> 


	44. Epilogue

Epilogue: And it ends.

_S__TAY__, O sweet, and do not rise ;  
>The light that shines comes from thine eyes ;<br>The day breaks not, it is my heart,  
>Because that you and I must part.<br>Stay, or else my joys will die,  
>And perish in their infancy.<em>

– _Break of Day, John Donne_

* * *

><p>Kiera<p>

It was done, the Blight had ended. Everyone in our party was safe, relatively unharmed and were celebrating in the festivities. I barely smiled as I watched them; happy, drunk and simply giddy with life.

In my defense, I was really intoxicated—I couldn't even count the number of bottles I had emptied.

It was honorable of Loghain to take the final blow upon himself—saving Daylen and I from that fate, but even now, I felt that it was meant for me. Perhaps it was a form of survivor's guilt—that another had died in my stead, but it definitely was not my intended outcome when we had recruited him into the Wardens.

I had hoped that he would guide Daylen—ex-general as he was, rebuilding the Order in Ferelden with a celebrated hero and veteran of war at its head. And yet, this was what it was; _we_ had survived, through another's death.

And with that death—the land was no longer in the throes of the archdemon. It was a _good_ end.

I felt the drink numb my senses—my leadened conscience no longer twisting my own thoughts.

Sipping from my glass, I stayed in that alcove so strategically hidden from prying eyes; away from the general good cheer. Not wanting to ruin the buoyant mood with my presence, I had slipped away as soon as I could after the pomp and glamour of the ceremony.

Daylen could have my share of the glory; my head was aching with all the people who were milling around, those sideways glances and hushed whispers about myself irritated me to no end. And yet, for some reason, I found no excuse to leave the palace; the wine was good and plentiful—and I needed plenty of it to drown the blackness of my humor.

Maker only knew I didn't want to stay for the actual coronation and the wedding; I couldn't, despite the front I had put up for everyone—I didn't want to see _him_ married to Anora, even if she was nice enough to understand our situation.

I didn't need to be reminded of what I'd miss out on, what _it_ meant, I didn't need Anora to remind me of what her father had done—for me, either.

Two of my companions were leaving; and I wondered if I could join either of them for a short tour of their homelands—interesting places _far, far away_ from Ferelden.

It was then a shadow darkened my already dim light in the alcove, and I balefully looked up to find a towering figure all dressed up in the glittering royal garb. Alistair had found me.

Alistair

Kiera looked _devastating_ in that blue dress, and her white-gold hair was left loose about her shoulders—every bit as lovely as I remembered, and more. The two shades of velvet blue had been inlaid with delicate silver embroidery— almost outshining our own ridiculous ostentatious attire.

These garments had been chosen specifically for _her_—Anora had made sure that everyone noticed the matching finery; almost wielding Kiera as a totem of her _generous acceptance_ at the earlier celebrations. She seemed downcast, not looking up as I approached, sipping wine in silence.

"So… what's a nice girl like you doing… you know, in a place like this?" I smirked, taking the other seat, across from her. The smile I got in return was strained and did not reach those azure orbs. She was depressed—and everyone I had asked refused to tell me why.

"Drinking myself into oblivion—care to join me?" Something in that silvery voice struck at my heart, her demeanor was very much changed since we had spoken last. I took the goblet from her steady hand as she raised it to her lips; downing every last drop of the drink.

"And now that I have your attention…" Setting the goblet down, my voice trailed off when I saw her delicate features, in that one moment; filled with such pain and wretchedness. I wondered what it was that had upset her so.

"Alistair…" Kiera sighed as she set the other empty bottles aside (there were many). I yearned to touch her, but the table that stood between us seemed a mile wide.

"Before you say anything—I'm not still angry about Loghain. I'm just glad you and Daylen are alright—well, specifically, you." It was odd that she remained silent, content to just gaze blankly back at me.

"Kiera—Maker—I _still_ love you." It was only then a genuine grin lit up her face, and a chuckle issued from those tempting lips. I knew I sounded immensely stupid, but frankly, I didn't care.

"You do know that your confessions of love become terribly sacrilegious when you add the 'Maker' into—"

She never did get to finish that sentence; I had leaned over the small round table that now seemed inconsequential, and pulled her into a kiss that was everything I had dreamed of for nights on end. Her lips were soft, plying under mine, and when her hands gripped the satin of my clothes, I knew that I had successfully tempted her.

Was it wrong that we soon found our way back to the room that Anora had arranged for her— with me fumbling at the blighted ribbons that held her bodice together and she giggling faintly as I swore under my breath?

_Andraste's flaming sword_—I only had a mouthful of wine, and suddenly my fingers didn't seem to be useful when they actually _mattered_.

Kiera had already made short work of my shirt—the thin material tore apart in moments when we finally locked the door, demonstrating just how much she'd wanted _me_ – just a muddy boy from Redcliffe, nothing but _need_ in her eyes.

xOxOx

Kiera

We had fallen together, and just feeling him pressed up against me drove me crazy—but this dress was defeating Alistair with its intricate knotting. Briefly, I wondered if this was the true intent behind the gift. I didn't see any other woman just giving the King's mistress a dress that would make affairs like this easy.

I gently removed Alistair's fingers from the knotted ribbons, and undid the gathers myself— even as Alistair watched me with those hungry eyes. I felt myself flushing as his gaze burned, my own fingers trembled faintly in anticipation of his touch.

He took me by surprise when he grabbed my hands as I moved to pull the whole thing off my tingling skin, and kissed me again, letting the cloths fall from my fingers. The sudden feel of his skin— bare against mine was overwhelming, and I let a gasp as the heat from his touch made my lower body tighten with every tentative brush of his fingers.

Each insistent tug on my lips, every moan we uttered, all seemed in harmony, and I stopped feeling guilty, enough to enjoy the moment that we had now, the precious night we had.

The magic I held in me demanded a release, and I tried an ice spell, coating my fingers with the barest of hint of frost, and the sounds he made ensured me that he was indeed enjoying it, if a little surprised at this sudden flash of cold dancing across sensitive areas of his taut body.

The man I was with—he might have grown up in a Chantry, but he really had some interesting ideas of his own. At least we made it indoors this time.

xOxOx

_Voices echoed—and these weren't from the darkspawn. They were familiar ones, thrums that had accompanied my thoughts, even as I searched… for something—someone. The sun was bright, high in the sky, but I felt only the chill, stabs of the breeze making it past my thin garments. Where was she? I found her, a child again, stooping by the side of a glassy body of water, watching its contents intently. Somehow, it seemed wrong. She seemed too distant._

"_You cannot be with him."_

_The young girl stroked the surface of the water, her fingers trailing little pathways in the liquid. _

"_I know; I intend to leave."_

"_Dare I ask where?"_

"_Far, far away. I will not bother him again."_

_I took a step forward, hand raised as if to touch that child, but all I could reach was a couple of strands of that wonderful sheet of gold—she remained out of my grasp._

"_But when you return, your presence will—"_

"_I will leave. He will be married, without my scandalous personage here."_

_Abruptly, the child stood and turned to face me; her eyes the same blue of the water, gleaming dully in the odd light. Briefly, our hands touched, and I found that I too, was a child, the muddy boy she knew from long ago. My heart raced, and I pulled her towards me, but all I embraced was air, wisps of mist. She was gone. Yet I still heard them._

"…_Good enough, then. Do you expect me to thank you?"_

"_No no no, thank the Maker, like you people always do."_

xOxOx

Elissa

I came upon the strangest sight, one preceded by enthusiastic barking, as well as some rather slobbery sounds. It was her, one of the heroes of Ferelden, and she was trapped under a huge _mabari_, giggling uncontrollably whilst she attempted to free herself.

Fergus was also there, laughing as he tried to collar the muscular hound, his mirth the last I remembered since... I knew her from Howe's estate, her words and her warm grip guiding my hand as I tore through the man who had coveted my family's title and massacred those I loved.

Kiera—her name was, unmistakably Orlesian, but seemed to share an odd relationship with the Royals. Rumors were rife amongst the other nobles, scandalous ones implicating her as a kept woman, her finery at the celebration obvious to all. She was wearing her platemail and carrying a pack— seemingly ready to travel.

"Come on boy; let's not get drool all over the pretty lady."

Fergus had successfully wrenched the dog away, although it was still lurching and lunging playfully, every so often at the breathless girl.

"No Loki, you can't come, you have to go to Weisshaupt with Daylen, and he needs you more than I do."  
>Her voice was low, slightly hoarse, as if she'd been crying. Her tears were evidently not merely those of laughter. She seemed younger than I, glowing in the Sun's rays, her hair swept back in an untidy but endearing style. I watched them from my place at the steps; they made a cute pair.<p>

"It's Teryn Cousland, isn't it? You have my thanks." Kiera had turned a most lovely smile upon my brother as she brushed back a loose strand of hair, and he seemed struck silly, flushing a deep purple. Stepping forward, I decided to save him from further embarrassment.

"My brother's momentarily… tongue-tied, but I suppose he means to say that was nothing, Lady Kiera. We… used to keep hounds like your fine _mabari_ at home."

She nodded, seeming not to recall our previous acquaintance, and I heard her mutter under her breath. _Oh I'm no lady. I'm a one-woman plague upon kings._

"I'm… sorry?" Did she mean Alis- I mean, King Alistair?

"Ah, it's nothing. I'd best be going. Please thank your brother for me… when he has recovered his senses." She winked as she spun on her heel, striding out of the courtyard.

The _mabari_ pawed at the dirt, dragging my speechless brother with him; both looking most distressed after Kiera's fleeing figure. It then let out a heart-wrenching whine when she could no longer be seen, stopping at the gate before slumping onto his haunches with a sigh.

My brother let out a sigh too, but it was one of relief. I imagine that the _mabari_ was really heavy. He certainly was breathing hard.

"She's a dangerous woman to be around— much too... attractive to be innocent." Fergus gasped, staring in the same direction of the _mabari_'s longing glances.

"She's actually rather nice. And also an impressive w—"

"Dangerous." He interrupted weakly.

I didn't agree. She only seemed… misunderstood.

xOxOx

Alistair

I awoke to the empty room, devoid of Kiera and her pack. All that she had left behind was that singular rose, laid on the table next to a neat set of clothes from the night before, the shirt a new piece to replace the one that had been ruined in our passions.

That was all I had of her, the faint fragrance that accompanied her presence fast disappearing from the air. She was gone.

xOxOx

Kiera

Daylen intercepted me in the Denerim market – having expected that I would be leaving, standing in the middle of the path, his thick dark hair still mussed from sleep. I also noticed that he was in the same embroidered robes from the day before. Was the Maker making me run a gauntlet lined by my friends? I needed to get to the docks, and soon.

He seemed groggy, bleary in the sunlight. "Kiera…"

"Stop it. I don't need this now." I wasn't in the mood for this—him. Just the sight of Daylen incensed me.

At least he had the grace to look somewhat sheepish. "Where are you going?"

"Away from here. Does it matter?"

"But what about Weisshaupt?"

I don't think I can take it, being there after the battle with the archdemon. Am I supposed to recount how two of my companions restrained me so another could die in my place?"

"I've been hoping to _talk_ to you about that…" Talk. That's what we always tried, but we always ended up shouting. Not everything could be solved by just _talking_. I was this close to hitting him.

"Oh, yes do. Regale me with your very many reasons. Loghain must die? Youth prevails? Or because you didn't want to be alone?"

"I…" I knew that my outburst was very uncharacteristic, but he had it coming for years. We had fought; four years ago, on my last night at the Circle—but he wasn't going to get out of it by looking apologetic.

I gave up whenever I saw that face. That ashamed-puppy face he seemed to display whenever I got nasty with my words. I would very likely forgive him if this argument went on. I also noticed that he wasn't apologising.

"On second thought, no." With that, I froze him the same way he did me at the top of Fort Drakon but this time, I only left a single hand free. He might be able to thaw himself out with magefire, but that would take a very long time.

It might give the Ferelden people some ideas for the statue they were going to make in his honour.

xOxOx

Thankfully the ships had not left, they were still waiting for high tide, and the waters were rising steadily, so I was very likely just in time—now all I had to do was choose.

Raising my head to feel the biting breeze gusting inland, I felt a weighted gaze watching my every movement. I knew this person—but I wasn't quite ready to see him in front of me. My 'meeting' with Daylen did not make me particularly hopeful.

That accented voice drew me in, defeating all attempts to avoid those eyes. Many people might not notice, but Zevran was very perceptive. "So… do you still want to go to Antiva?"

"I… I don't know." I really didn't want to look at him—I feared that the same unspeakable rage I felt around Daylen would direct itself at him.

"Ah my _bella_… You need a break from either of us. Go to Seheron with Sten."

"That's it? No pointless justifications about why you did it?" I could feel my anger deflating—confusion taking its place.

The elf only chuckled, before replying with a small grin. "Anyone would be wary of doing that- given the way you dealt with Daylen. But no, I have no excuses for my actions."

"I'm very tempted to yell at you. But I can't." This was true. No one could yell at Zevran without feeling like an idiot.

"It's because I am so very handsome, yes? But I prefer another sort of yelling, altogether. That, we might attempt— in a different… context."

I couldn't help it— I laughed; at least his intentions were clear. But I wasn't ready. It wouldn't be fair— not so soon after…

"I will leave with Sten. But give me three months, I'll find my way to Antiva."

"You _still_ want to see the Antivan sights with me?" Why was it that he seemed so incredulous? I meant every word.

"Your odds with the Crows need to be… evened."

"I'm… touched, my _bella_." A strange light seemed to glitter in his eyes.

OxOxO

* * *

><p>P.S.: And—we're done. Thanks for reading this far—I love you all!<p> 


End file.
